Hammer's Payback
by CF Vici
Summary: Ivan Vanko ruined the Stark Expo. The world blamed Justin Hammer and made him pay. Hammer blamed Pepper Potts and Tony Stark and he's on a mission to get his payback. Pep in jep. Pepperony subplot.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: This is my first Iron Man fic. I don't pretend to know everything about Iron Man there is. I use Marvel's Earth 199999 canon, which is the movie universe. In cases where the tie-in prose (non-graphic) novels add information, I use the books as additional canon. Where the movies and novels conflict, I treat the movies as superseding. **_

_**This story is written such that it could have occurred **__**between**__** IM2 and Avengers without changing any movie canon.**_

_**I should mention that while I do proofread extensively, I do not consider anything I post to be ready for slash-and-burn critique. I would write another draft before attempting that stage, only after the entire story was complete and only if the first draft seemed worthy of further work. This is fanfiction. Fun and free. If Marvel offers to pay me, I'll do more rewrites.**_

_**While I do not hold chapters hostage for reviews, I readily admit that the more positive feedback and encouragement I get, the more I am motivated to write. I apologize to those who prefer to read for free and never write reviews, but the blunt truth is I am needy that way. I need the encouragement or my muse shrivels up and dies.**_

_**Hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

From atop her high and mighty pedestal, Judge Christine Flanders gave the jury foreman a nod as she accepted the envelope containing the verdict. She read it herself and then glanced over the top of her reading glasses at the packed courtroom, her eyes landing briefly on the defendant before returning to the foreman. She nodded to him. "Please read it for the court."

"On the charges of…"

_Blah, blah, blah_. The defendant, Justin Hammer, tuned out all the legal mumbo-jumbo. He had the most expensive lawyers in the whole damned world. It was their job to pay attention to this kind of crap, not his. Another few seconds of standing here, playing meek and contrite in front of this old biddy, and this whole asinine trial business would be over. He could hardly wait to turn around and give Stark and Potts the finger and then get on with his life.

"…we the jury find the defendant guilty."

Hammer's guts fell about a thousand feet straight down, into the twilight zone of utter shock. The foreman was dismissed and the judge started blathering, but Hammer was still too stunned to process Missy Chrissy's pompous prattle. He only vaguely registered the end of her little speech:

"… hereby sentence you to twelve years in federal minimum security prison, to commence immediately." Her gavel slammed down on its block; its harsh wooden clack reverberated throughout the courtroom.

The audience erupted in a collective burst of chatter. Happy? Surprised? He couldn't tell.

The deposed weapons mogul stood there, numb. He was dimly aware of three extremely overpriced lawyers patting his back, whispering their empty platitudes.

"It could have been a lot worse."

"Don't worry, we'll appeal."

"That's Club Fed. They have tennis courts and a swimming pool."

Hammer didn't move. _This isn't real. Any second, I'll wake up_.

Some overweight cop-type pushed through the crowd around him and unceremoniously slapped handcuffs on his wrists.

_What the hell do you think you're doing?_ his mind screamed, but his mouth wasn't engaging for some odd reason. Why wasn't he waking up?

The lawyers backed away like he was some sort of pariah, all of them looking anywhere but at him. Hammer heard them discussing which restaurant to visit for lunch.

He was in chains here, about to be led off to a _cage_, and they couldn't even make a show of sympathy? How about outrage at this miscarriage of justice? How could they eat at a time like this? He finally found his voice. "You said this wouldn't happen! You said you'd fix everything. You're fired—every last one of you, you bloodsucking, incompetent cheats!"

They sighed and shook their heads, only barely masking their apathy. Why should they care now, after already soaking him for everything he owned? _Bastards_. Hammer Industries was defunct and there would be no dividends coming while he was rotting away in some dilapidated hellhole. They squeezed all his money and his life away and then discarded him like spent shell casings.

The cop grabbed his upper arm and pressed him toward the door. Hammer looked over his shoulder at all the reporters gawking at him like some circus side-show. "What're you looking at?" he growled.

The guard shoved him harder.

"I'm going. I'm going," he complained loudly, even as he kept looking over his shoulder, scanning the crowd for the objects of his wrath.

His gaze caught the strawberry blonde first. Potts was glaring back at him with the same cut-throat aggression she'd displayed that night at the Expo—the night that was supposed to be his crowning glory and instead turned into his never-ending nightmare. Without her, he would only have lost a bunch of hardware, maybe a defense contract or two. No, that bitch had made it personal. This was all her fault and he hated her with every fiber of his being.

Only a fraction of a second later, Tony Stark's smug face appeared next to hers, sickeningly close, in fact. They were a couple? _With all the hot women throwing themselves at Stark, why in hell would he ever pick Potts?_ Hammer didn't concern himself with Stark's questionable taste in lovers. That was his problem. However, Stark had appointed that bitch as his CEO and thus set her against Hammer both personally and professionally. Not to mention, if Stark had kept his red and gold fancy pants out of the Expo, Vanko wouldn't have had any reason to ruin the presentation and go all psycho-revenge-dude on everyone. That Russian's meltdown and all the resulting injuries and general destruction were why everyone was so bent on throwing the book at him now. That was not his fault. That was Stark.

Hammer still wanted to fly the bird at Stark and Potts, but with his wrists cuffed and the cop now gripping his bicep hard, he couldn't physically manage it. Although he had more venom seething in his heart for the bitch, this was not the time to show it. The press was here, trolling for a juicy tidbit, and for some dumb reason, they seemed to like Potts—probably because she was a woman. Stark, however, was always fair game in the media.

"This isn't over, Tony!" he shouted. "You set me up. I'm not going to forget. Mark my words, you're gonna pay!"

Goatee-surrounded lips curled into a smirk while Stark fluttered his fingers in a juvenile wave. "Bye, Justin, sweet cheeks. Have a nice stay at Hotel Queer. Send you a postcard care of 'Head Twink,' shall I?" He added a few smooch sounds, barely heard over the laughter from the crowd.

Hammer would have shouted a comeback, but the guard had noticed his attempt to delay the inevitable and precluded it by giving a last hard shove, pulling the door shut behind them with a slam. "Hey, watch it!" Hammer whined. "Do you have any idea how much this suit cost?"

"This," the cop said through gritted teeth as he punched his prisoner in the gut, "is how much I care about your stupid suit. You're not calling the shots anymore, rich kid. Shut up and learn some respect."

* * *

Although the entire Hammer trial had been a media circus in the United States from its inception, worldwide news outlets had been mostly indifferent. International news did, however run footage of the final verdict, complete with Justin Hammer's dumbfounded reaction and Tony Stark's bawdy verbal jab as the convict was dragged out of the room. It played well as a bit of pseudonews fluff, even with the audio appropriately censored.

The king of Monaco and his staff had followed the trial with more attention than most. They'd had a vested interest in this ever since being denied extradition of the man who conspired to fake Vanko's death, killing fifteen people in the process of the prison breakout. The tiny country hadn't been too pleased when Hammer's lawyers had him declared a federal offender and kept him out of their reach.

They watched the clip, cheering at the "guilty" proclamation and sighing over the light sentence. While the penalty the Americans imposed was woefully inadequate to punish a murderer, Hammer hadn't actually been charged with the crimes committed on Monaco's soil yet. If he ever showed his face at the Grand Prix or a Monte Carlo casino, they would have him then. There was no statute of limitations.

Everyone, including the king, laughed at the difference between what Monsieur Stark said in English and the sanitized French translation flashed across the bottom of the screen. The billionaire playboy could be an arrogant jerk at times, but they had to admit he was entertaining.

* * *

Many miles from Monaco, more men squatted in a dimly lit bunker draped with a faded red flag depicting ten rings encircling two crossed scimitars. Mud walls, improvised electricity, and men who appeared not to have bathed or washed their clothes in months sharply contrasted the expensive-looking laptop computer upon which they watched the Al Jazeera broadcast of the same news clip. All original sound had been purged in favor of an Arabic commentary which only gave the barest of details.

A few of the men in the bunker knew enough English to make out some of what was said by reading lips. However, no knowledge of English or lip-reading was required to read the faces and the body language of the spoiled Americans who appeared on their screens, acting more like bickering 10-year-olds than adults.

"Perfect," said a heavily-accented, deep voice. "This will fit quite nicely into our plans."

Those sitting closest to the speaker nodded while the rest of the men continued cleaning weapons, eating, or playing cards. They didn't need to agree. They didn't need to think. All they needed to do was follow orders.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Wow, thanks for the enthusiastic welcome. Quick apology for misspelling Vanko in chapter 1 and the description. My bad. It's fixed now. Please don't hesitate to call me on spelling, grammar, or punctuation, especially while the chapter is still in the site memory and easy to fix and replace. Hope you enjoy...**_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The Stark Expo had ended early thanks to Ivan Vanko. Too many buildings had been demolished or damaged, and opinion polls showed people were afraid to come back even if they got repaired. As much as it pained Tony to let it go, he now had another legacy of his father's—the clean energy arc reactor—to fill his time.

He petitioned to have the new element named 'Badassium' with atomic symbol Bm, but he encountered resistance in the scientific community. Some nuclear physicists simply had no sense of humor and others were arguing it wasn't even a new element at all, but a higher-energy allotrope of Vibranium, like diamond was a harder allotrope of carbon than graphite. He _was_ being rather secretive about its specs and synthesizing methods. That much power could be perverted into an awful weapon, not to mention, he rather liked being ten years ahead of all the competition in the energy race.

Fury had said it would start an energy revolution that would dwarf the arms race. Tony was absolutely committed to that goal and Stark Tower would be the shining beacon declaring his triumph to the world. He'd unplug from the grid and power his skyscraper solely by arc reactor.

Indeed, it was probably the allure of the Clean Energy Project that finally convinced Pepper to stop trying to step down as Stark Industries' CEO. She'd tried to quit on the night of Vanko's rampage, and another time since then, but Tony never accepted her heat-of-the-moment resignations and after telling her about his rediscovery of his father's work, she'd been captivated. Good thing, too. She was the best CEO he could hope for and he didn't want to replace her with anyone inferior, or be stuck with the job himself.

Pepper was spending a lot of time in New York, working on Stark Tower, but Tony preferred living in his Malibu mansion. The Mark V suitcase armor had been repaired since Monaco, so he could fly out to see her any time he wanted. She had use of the company jet, so she could come home to California any time she wanted as well. It wasn't an ideal arrangement, but until the R&D floors and the penthouse were ready, he would sacrifice travel time for the comforts of home. The Mark VI still needed some work to get it back to where it was before Whiplash and the Hammeroid drones abused it. His basement garage was still the best place to accomplish that.

Tony and Pepper actually saw more of each other now than they had when they were both living in California. SI employed some of the best minds in the world, but this was a new spin on arc reactor tech and they couldn't possibly manage it without expertise from Stark himself. Tony knew this, but he avoided them anyway—partly to force them to think for themselves and partly because Pepper was so incredibly hot when she got all passionate about Stark Tower and had to play intermediary between him and the other SI geeks. He loved it when she got all flustered and he was pretty sure she knew it and played it up just to tease him.

Being bi-coastal meant they had to plan for time together and it deterred Tony from taking Pepper for granted as much as he had done in the past. That was probably a blessing in disguise, since he was still rather new to the whole steady relationship thing, but he'd never admit how much he struggled to keep the playboy party animal in check.

He did rather miss having a personal assistant, since the duplicitous 'Natalie Rushman' dropped him like a hot potato to go play spy babe for Director Eyepatch just when she was getting interesting. Still, Tony was never one to let boredom take hold. If he wasn't working on the Energy Project or out saving the world, he had fast cars and tinkering with his armor to keep him busy.

He was down in the basement, doing some repairs on the battle-damaged Mark VI, when JARVIS interrupted his thoughts.

"Sir, Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes is hovering outside your living room window, asking to speak to you."

"Rhodey? Put him on." Tony waited only a second for the A.I. to make the connection. "Do I need to report a peeping tom or did you bring back the War Machine?" The only other way he'd be hovering was if he was in a helicopter or a Harrier. Helicopters were not Rhodey's style and a Harrier would be blasting up all kinds of saltwater on the custom panoramic window glass he'd just installed last month, replacing the one he and Rhodey had destroyed at Tony's birthday party. Tony had half a mind to send him out there with a bottle of Windex and a squeegee if he was messing with his view.

"No, I'm out here flapping my wings. You gonna let me in or what?"

Tony hit the button to activate the iris opening into the garage. JARVIS usually did it automatically for him and he'd eventually program him to do it for Rhodey too. The War Machine glided down feet first. It, too, was still a bit battle-damaged, but some of the smaller dents had been pounded out. The added weaponry housings had been repaired completely. In all, it really didn't look that bad. Tony rather liked most of the upgrades to the Mark II.

Rhodey waited until the last possible moment to cut the thrusters, so he only had an inch or two to drop, making no more sound than someone setting down a highball on a bar. Tony expected nothing less from the Air Force's finest. He gave his friend a nod in greeting. "Nice landing."

The faceplate opened. "Thanks. I try."

"So, did you finally get your car fixed, or did you come to make more excuses?"

"I already said I was sorry."

"So you admit it's mine?"

Rhodey took deliberate strides directly to the gantry platform Tony had used for the earlier models. It only briefly surprised Tony he knew where to stand, but he would have to have known to get the armor on in the first place. Metal plates in the floor slid open and mechanical arms reached out automatically and began disassembling the War Machine. "I brought it back, just like I promised."

Tony happened to know his friend had tried to do this sooner, but the Air Force brass wouldn't let him. How hard was it for him to restrain himself from mentioning just how close he had come to ending his career over this? Tony decided to honor his restraint by not pushing him to admit it. "Yes you did. Hey, I forgot to ask, what did you think?"

His friend stepped off the platform, now wearing only a pale yellow polo and khaki slacks. "You want my professional opinion?"

"You're a military aviator, right? Who better to judge an armed flying suit?"

"I thought you testified under oath that it was a prosthesis?"

Tony smirked. "Fine. Flying prosthesis. Your assessment as a pilot then."

Rhodey looked at him and grinned. "Two words: It rocks."

Tony noted the grin, but he looked down at the Mark VI parts, feigning disinterest in the conversation. "So you wouldn't be averse to the idea of using it again?"

Both hands shot up in surrender. "I'm not gonna steal from you, Tony."

"No, I meant authorized use—after I get all that Hammer crap off it, of course." He gestured toward the War Machine pieces with a wrench.

Brown eyes grew wide and Rhodey leaned in to use his hush-hush voice. "You serious?"

"We did work well together, didn't we?"

"After you got control returned to me, hell, yeah. We kicked ass."

"Good. The military can't have it, but the Secretary of Defense accepted my proposal to give access to you, and you alone."

"You're giving it to me?"

"_Access_. Still technically property of Stark Industries, but I decided you're right. I don't want to be the lone gunslinger. I want someone I can trust to have my back. Better you than anyone Senator Stern might prick—uh, pick."

Rhodey chuckled, but the joke wasn't funny enough to distract him completely. Tony saw understanding dawn in his eyes as to why he'd finally been allowed to return the suit. Tony hated the fact some fat cats in the Pentagon cared less about a colonel's career and honor than they had about a piece of hardware, but _Tony_ cared. This compromise ensured that Rhodey and no one else would ever be using it. Having the Hammer drones after him was bad enough, but Tony never wanted to see his own creation on his six and the operator telling him he had missile-lock.

"I told them I was encoding it to your DNA and if anyone else gets inside, they'll be ejected Robocop-style."

"You want my DNA?" He held out his hand as if offering a sample right there.

Tony shrugged. "Eventually, when I actually have the technology to back up the bluff."

Now Rhodey really laughed.

"Don't rat me out. It protects both of us. And I do intend to add it when I get the chance, just some other things ahead of that on my priority list." He gestured with his wrench again, waving it over the Mark VI wreckage.

"No, I like the bluff," Rhodey said. "So I really get to use it again?"

Tony nodded. "You have to keep it here or on base, if they can prove to your satisfaction their locker is secure enough. If you break anything, you fix it personally or bring it back to me. No calling any of my old competitors to come snooping inside my designs, getting ideas of their own, or looking for ways to commandeer it."

"Fair enough. I did remove the reactor before Hammer came in on the project."

"Probably the smartest thing you did. He'd have taken it back to Vanko and we'd still be fighting those drones."

"So how long before she's fixed?" Rhodey canted his head in the direction of the armor he'd just left.

"She? War Machine is a _she_?"

"No, the _armor_ is a she—a sweet hottie who wants nothing better than to wrap herself around my every body part and hug me tight." He pressed his index finger into his chest. "_**I**_ am War Machine."

Tony couldn't suppress a smile."Exactly what I'd want my sidekick to say. Thanks for bringing _her_ back, buddy."

"Thanks for DNA-coding her to _me_, real or not. The threat's enough."

_Yep, that's what I figured too._


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: I lost that many of you already, only two chapters in? *sigh* You're making it hard on my poor muse. **_

_**I don't know how much time Marvel puts between IM2 and Avengers, but assuming Stark Tower was built from scratch and not started before the new element was discovered, I should have at least 2 years to play with. If Stark Tower was already there and just "converted" to arc power, it could be much less, but I still have no definitive number to use, so please indulge me with the time passage.**_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Hammer couldn't remember anymore how long he'd been locked up. It seemed like years. Sure, whoever built this place tried to make it look less like a cage, but anyone who thought this was anything close to a country club had obviously never been a member of a real one. No masseuse. No drink service. No beautiful women in bikinis. And the food absolutely sucked. He didn't expect them to serve organic gelato and salmon carpaccio, but the reality was far worse than he could have imagined. It was even worse than public school cafeterias, and doubly so because he had no other choice, day in and day out. Bland, overcooked, and everything was either mushy slop or hard enough to chip a tooth. They couldn't even make a decent slice of toast.

Stark had been right about the twink thing and while it sickened Hammer to be used like that, at least it bought him protection from having his "pretty boy" face bashed in and his stomach punched every time he turned around. A couple of his "protectors" even slipped him an occasional butterscotch or hard peppermint because they thought he was getting so weak that he'd end up in the infirmary, and therefore not available to be their toy. Hammer didn't ask where they got candy, but he'd lost any kind of pride that might have provoked him to refuse. He dreamed of tootsie pops nearly every night.

"Hammer, you got an attorney consultation," one of the guards droned.

_That's odd. I fired all my lawyers._ Maybe one of them was trying to get back on his payroll. He would utterly enjoy telling whoever it was to go to hell. No one had ever visited him before, but he was fine with that. He didn't want to be seen like this. He would have refused the lawyer too, but for the promise of some entertainment. He made no comment as he followed the guard to the visitation area. He was led to a different room from the one where all the other guys saw their wives, girlfriends, kids, and mothers. The door was marked "Confidential."

The guard opened the door and stepped aside to let Hammer enter, then he left and locked the door behind him. The prisoner saw immediately this was not one of his lawyers. He couldn't be older than 25 and he wore a suit that looked like he got it off the rack at Wal-Mart. He was also quite ethnic, like maybe Mexican or Indian or something. Hammer didn't really know how to tell races apart, except he didn't think he was African-American. The hair was jet black, but straight. _Has to be an intern or office flunky_. "If you're from Bowker, Simon, and Doubleday, I'm not changing my mind. The entire firm is fired and that's final."

"Please sit, Mr. Hammer," the man said with a heavy accent. It sounded like the typical customer support accent—India or the Philippines.

Hammer slid into the chair. "Where are you from?"

"My name is Amar Tariq Deshpande. I was hired by your _sister_." Here, he paused to give him a probing look.

_Does he know?_ Hammer shook his head mildly. "I don't have a sister."

"Really?" Amar _Whatever_ opened a file folder. "Records indicate your mother gave birth to a girl five years before you were born. Ashley Marie Hammer."

"She died in a drowning accident when she was three."

"Yet she owns a Swiss bank account and several other holdings which you manage for her." The file folder yielded up bank statements, property deeds, dummy corporation documents and various other pieces of evidence that could get Hammer in serious trouble with the IRS—maybe even more trouble than he was already in. He laid them out on the table, making sure Hammer could see what each piece of paper represented.

"You're my lawyer, right? This is privileged information," Hammer warned, slapping his hands down on the papers.

The dark-skinned man carefully gathered all the documents back into the file folder, pulling them firmly from under his grasp without asking permission or offering apology. "Since, as you pointed out, you have no sister, then it is true no one has hired me as your lawyer. Therefore, you will cease speaking to me as if I am beholden to you. I am _not_ your employee. However, you should consider perpetuating this cover with the guards and other inmates, because only lawyers may speak to prisoners without the security cameras and listening devices."

So this slick young darky had dirt on him, and he knew there was still money out there that he'd managed to keep hidden. Hammer had originally done it for tax purposes, but he'd also kept it from from his lawyers, so they couldn't sell it off like they'd already done his house, his cars, and all his stock in Hammer Industries. "So what is this, blackmail? You handle my appeal and take all my..." he curled twin fingers in air quotes, "_sister's_ property in payment, and if I refuse, you leak that file and I get further screwed." Hammer tried not to think of the literal ramifications of the word he chose, but everyone said _this_ was the 'easy' place to do time. He couldn't wrap his head around anything actually worse.

Amar showed no shock on his face and his voice was calm when he spoke. "Actually, Mr. Hammer, we don't want any of this." He lifted the file about four inches and dropped it back on the table.

"_We?_"

"I am not at liberty to reveal who sent me. You are not in any position to demand that information, so I suggest you banish your curiosity."

"You dug up my secrets, but you're not here to cash in, so what _do_ you want?"

"We wish to do for you what you did for Ivan Vanko. Wonderful, the irony, is it not?"

This guy said he wasn't his lawyer, so Hammer wasn't sure if he could still claim attorney-client privilege. "What do you think I did?"

Darky opened his briefcase and placed the file folder in it. "If you don't want our help, that is your concern. Good day, Mr. Hammer."

"Wait. I didn't say I didn't want your help. Come on. I don't have any idea who you are or what you want. How do I know I can trust you?"

He shrugged. "You do not. But you did not ask Vanko if he wanted your help before you gave it to him, did you?"

The man had a point. He'd gone to the trouble of lying about being his lawyer so they could talk privately. How much better could Hammer really expect it to get? "You're right. Don't go."

"I am here to help you, but do not make the mistake of thinking you are in control of this deal. You will owe us and if you do not keep your side of the bargain—"

"You'll take everything I have left."

Amar nodded curtly. "After we kill you."

Before he arrived here, Hammer wouldn't have agreed to anything that put him in anyone else's debt to that degree or risked jeopardizing his legal appeal. But his outlook had changed. This place was intolerable and he was ready to do anything to get out. "What's my side of the bargain?"

"We want Iron Man."

_Get in line_. Hammer bit down the urge to say it aloud. "I had two dozen drones and a Russian genius with badass armor and it wasn't enough. I don't have any of that anymore and last I heard, Hammer Industries was being chopped up and sold in pieces."

"It is rumored you are a smart man. When you come up with a plan, we will get you out. I will check back in a week."

"Wait. A week? No!" Panic entered his tone, although he fought to hide it. "I know how to get to him: Pepper Potts. Kidnap her and demand the armor as ransom. If he doesn't have his suit, Stark is just a blowhard. Bullet to the brain and he's gone." He surprised himself with the level of violence he was suggesting. Publicly, he'd always treated their rivalry like professional wrestling—a lot of smack-talk and posturing, just to keep them both in the press. They could even pretend to be civil if the situation warranted it. But prison had changed him. He still wanted Stark's reputation ruined and he really wanted him to suffer, but in the end, nothing was as important as removing him from the picture—permanently.

Darky quirked a brow. "This plan would be acceptable. Are you certain you can do it?"

"You already know what I'm capable of or you wouldn't be here, would you?" Hammer felt some of his old swagger return. It wouldn't come fully until he was out of this place, but he felt more like himself than he had on months.

The mysterious "lawyer" reopened the briefcase and removed the file folder again. He shuffled through the documents and selected one to set in front of his "client" on the table. "We highly recommend _this_ as your base of operations. It was the most difficult item to connect to you and we erased the connection after we found it. No one will find you here."

Hammer grinned. He hadn't been there in a while, but it was indeed a very stealthy little hideaway. "Yeah, I can fly us out there."

"No you can't. Your pilot was an employee of Hammer Industries and your Gulfstream G5 was not in your sister's name."

Which meant it was no longer his. _Damn_. "Do I have any resources at all?"

Amar patted the folder. "Only what's in here. But as I said, we wish to assist you. You should be ready to give us a list of your needs as soon as we perform the extraction."

_Extraction. I like that._ "So what's the plan? File in a cake?"

The briefcase was still open. The lawyer moved more papers out of the way and pulled out what looked like a plastic brownie pan in a ziplock bag. He removed it from the briefcase and then removed the pan from the bag, carefully keeping it horizontal. Hammer could now see the "pan" contained a pink powder. Also in the bag was a small jar of petroleum jelly, which the lawyer passed to him. "Apply this to your entire face."

Hammer removed his glasses and smeared the nasty stuff all over his face. This was rather beneath him, but wasn't everything in this hellhole? He didn't want to give his benefactor any reason to run out.

Darky twisted off the cap of a water bottle and dumped it in the pan. Using what looked like a fudgesicle stick (_Who got to eat that?_ Hammer wondered miserably), Amar stirred the water and powder together. It formed a pink liquid and then a gel, as best as Hammer could tell without his glasses. Amar stopped stirring and slid the pan across the table to Hammer. "This is for your face impression."

"Wait. How am I supposed to breathe?"

"It is quick-set. You can hold your breath for ten seconds, can you not?"

Why did this feel like the set-up to some cruel practical joke? He stared at the pan of pink goop.

His hesitation provoked Darky to the harshest tone yet. "Do it now or your extraction will be delayed."

Hammer leaned over the table, drew a deep breath, and lifted the pan up to meet his petroleum jelly-greased face. The goop squished into his eye sockets, around to his ears, and under his chin. He had a good idea what it was going to be used for, so he did his best to keep still while the mud hardened. He counted off the seconds in his head, but left it there a little longer for good measure.

"Lift slowly from one end," Amar instructed.

Hammer pulled the chin end first. A sucking noise accompanied the release of the vacuum and a perfect imprint of his face remained in the plastic tray.

The lawyer returned the tray and the vaseline jar to the plastic bag, zipped it closed, and hid it beneath file folders and papers in the briefcase. He tossed Hammer a wet-nap.

As the prisoner cleaned the petroleum jelly from his face, the lawyer latched the briefcase and stood. "We will be in touch, Mr. Hammer."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: I realized while writing this chapter that "Amar" was a bad name choice. Too close to "Hammer". I'd refer to him as "Deshpande" except I don't think Hammer would have picked up the full name from one introduction. I'd change it completely, except this is probably the last time you'll hear of him, so we'll all just have to live with the bad name. My apologies.**_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Hammer was excited about his impending jailbreak for the rest of the day. He started planning how he'd get to Potts and what he'd say to Stark when he got the chance.

However, after a dinner of pig slop and his evening abuse session, followed by sleeping on the thin piece of foam they called a bed, everything got a little fuzzy. He dreamed of Stark planting a pie in his face and the pie filling was bubble gum. Ivan Vanko and clay-mation fudgesicles taunted him in broken English while Amar kept flying by in the Gulfstream G5 with his head out the cockpit window, like some dog on a joyride. It was entirely possible what he recalled from the day before was actually just part of that crazy dream he had.

It was also entirely possible he was going insane. However, since he had nothing better to do, he indulged his fantasy and planned Stark's demise. If Amar was real, he—or perhaps his bosses, whoever they were—would not be happy if he didn't have that list ready. Hammer wanted to believe the breakout could be imminent, so nearly every waking moment was devoted to plotting his revenge.

The deliciousness of his mental activity distracted him a bit too much, and he wasn't as careful in the dining hall as he should have been. He normally sat with one of his "protectors". They liked to show off their "toys" the way Hammer used to show off his clothes, cars, and whatever hot chick he could land a date with.

Deep in thought, he chose his dinner table absently. He realized his mistake too late and it earned him several punches in the face. His glasses didn't break, but once they were knocked off his face, the goon who'd found a punching bag must have thought he hit the jackpot. Hammer's nose ended up bleeding and he got a black eye and a cut on the cheek. Unfortunately, this was not enough to warrant a night in the relatively safe infirmary.

A jaded doctor applied a butterfly tape on the cut and gave him a bag of ice for the swelling, but then the guards escorted him back to his miserable cell and left him there to be verbally harassed and made fun of the rest of the night. With his nose and eye throbbing like a bitch, and all the taunting through the bars, he found it harder to concentrate on his kidnapping scheme, but at least he'd missed the evening "free time" which usually meant rape-the-twink.

The next day, he was much more careful to pay attention to his surroundings, kiss up to the right inmates, and steer clear of the wrong ones. The pain diminished to a mere dull ache, but that was tolerable enough to let him entertain more thoughts of revenge. Everything had to be mentally rehearsed because he couldn't afford to write anything down, even with a crayon. (Pencils and pens were were too sharp to be allowed.) The list compiling in his head was too incriminating to commit to paper, napkin, or even the back of his hand.

Just about the time he'd memorized the plan and the list to the point of boredom, he started to wonder, again, if there was any point. For all he knew, Amar Blah-Blah-Whatever was just a figment of his imagination, or worse, real, but utterly insincere. Giving him hope like that to turn around and ignore him was exactly the kind of joke he'd expect from all those idiots who laughed at his sentencing. Hope started to fade. It was actually only three days since the first meeting with Amar, but it seemed weeks now.

And then, without warning, Amar returned, bringing an associate with him. The new guy's suit wasn't Armani, but it was a step up from the "Wal-Mart special" suit Amar wore. New Guy had wavy red hair and he wore round John Lennon-ish spectacles with tinted lenses. Since Hammer had been waiting and watching, he saw them outside—behind security fencing, of course—before they entered the building.

A guard came to fetch Hammer and he did his level best to act indifferent as he was escorted to the private consultation room. Amar introduced his associate as Mark O'Dell, but it was clearly a ruse for the guards. Once the door was locked, Amar's business tone vanished. "Take all your clothes off," he ordered.

Hammer immediately began doing it, eyeing the briefcase for what he assumed would be replacement clothes. However, O'Dell also started stripping off his suit and taking Hammer's discarded prison garb. Hammer flashed Amar a questioning look, and Amar nodded at the pile of tailored suit pieces left by O'Dell. They were trading clothes.

O'Dell also removed a wig, revealing blond hair which was colored and cut exactly like Hammer's. As Hammer was buttoning up the shirt, he noticed how well the clothes fit too. This guy was nearly his twin. Amar opened his briefcase and removed two latex masks—Hollywood quality, not cheap Halloween stuff. O'Dell started applying adhesive to his Hammer mask while Justin pulled the red wig over his head. O'Dell placed Hammer's glasses on. Amar made them both stop for a moment, so he could study the real Hammer and his doppelganger side-by-side.

"How'd you know about the black eye?" Hammer asked. That had happened after the impression was taken but the mask had been altered to look exactly like his present appearance, butterfly dressing and everything.

O'Dell spoke for the first time, and when he did, it shocked Hammer to hear his own voice impersonated. "You don't think I'd try to pretend I was you without studying you, do you? We've been watching all the security footage for weeks."

Which meant he knew the routine. But that much preparation still seemed like overkill _unless_...

"Uh, you don't wanna be around after dinner, man."

"Yes, I do," the twin said.

_Oh, you're gay_. Hammer took a second to school his response into something less prejudiced than his gut reaction. This guy was doing him a huge favor; he needed to play nice. Maybe this place did seem like a country club if one's attractions ran that way.

O'Dell shook his head as if reading his thoughts. "I've been in _real_ prison before. This is no big deal. The glue on this..." He tapped his mask. "...will last a week, but it's really your choice when the charade gets discovered. Then they interrogate me, threaten me, and finally ship me off to someplace a lot worse."

Amar interrupted, "And the transfer is when he'll be extracted."

Hammer finished tying the laces on the immaculately polished leather shoes O'Dell had worn in. Amar handed him the O'Dell mask and the adhesive bottle. It took a little longer for him to get it right than his twin had taken. Evidently O'Dell had done it before and knew what he was doing. The John Lennon glasses were even the right prescription and the tint Hammer had seen outside was gone now. They were sun-sensitive.

There was no mirror, so he couldn't see how he looked, but O'Dell made sure everything was adjusted properly, especially the wig, which Hammer had put on backwards at first. Amar put the adhesive bottle back in the briefcase.

Hammer's twin sat at the table and hunched his shoulders, staring into space. _Do I look that pathetic?_ the real Hammer thought.

Amar motioned for Hammer to follow him, nudging his head up from the habitual downturn. They knocked and waited for the prisoner to be collected, Hammer unconsciously holding his breath while waiting to see if the switch was noticed. O'Dell, however, was perfect, and the guard didn't even look twice.

Once the prisoner was gone, the exit door buzzed open and they walked out nonchalantly.

"Stop smiling," Amar said ventriloquist-style, "You're an attorney with a lot of work to do on an impossible appeal and it's only Wednesday afternoon."

Hammer couldn't remember how it felt to take freedom for granted, but he knew he'd done it before. Besides, his benefactor was right. Happy lawyers were such a rarity it would blow his cover.

Amar led Hammer to his Beemer and started the engine. He handed Hammer his iPhone. "Here, play Angry Birds or something. You'll look more normal."

Hammer took it and started fiddling around as Amar drove. He wasn't that great with computers to begin with, and this one had a different iOS than he was used to, so it took a while to make it do what he wanted, but he finally found the Stark Industries home page. Knowing that Pepper Potts' and Tony Stark's public appearance schedules would only be a few clicks away now, he looked up to see the Beemer had already passed the vehicle checkpoint. He was out. He was free.

He studied the schedules meticulously, committing the important dates and places to memory. It occurred after he memorized them, that he could have used paper and pen again. If the phone had been his, he could have typed himself a memo. Since the wheels were turning now and Amar wasn't talking, Hammer took it upon himself to break the silence. "How do you want that list?"

"Ah, you are wasting no time. Most excellent. Do not put it on the phone. It is not secure."

Hammer seemed to remember some privacy scandals mentioned in the news, but hadn't cared enough to pay attention. He had no sympathy for people on the outside who had decent food, clothes that fit, and no danger of being an unwilling boytoy to a guy named Thumper.

The car came to a stop outside his favorite sweet shop. It was combination candy store, bakery, and café, a place he'd dreamed about for months. It would have surprised him to end up here, but if Amar knew about his sister's holdings, surely he had seen Hammer's credit card records and knew how much he used to spend at this particular purveyor of heavenly goodness.

Amar handed him a platinum credit card in Mark O'Dell's name. "Go stock up for your trip to your Villa. You're leaving in an hour."

Hammer couldn't decide whether to ask what his credit limit was or question why the unnecessary indulgence. These people had gone to a lot of trouble to spring him from the slammer and he knew good and well it wasn't just to be nice. He finally decided their catering to his sweet tooth happened for the same reason he bought Vanko a cockatoo—an empty little gesture meant to impart the appearance of caring. They would use it against him just as easily if he didn't deliver what they wanted. Fine. He could play that game. He'd milk it for what it was worth.

Besides, these people wanted the same thing he did, Stark dead and Potts to suffer. It probably wouldn't hurt if she ended up dead too, but maybe he could break her like he'd been broken in prison, make her willing to do what was previously unthinkable and unpleasant in order to avoid pain or death. The idea made him grin.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: I am operating under the assumption that a T-audience is not going to be disturbed to have birth control/condoms mentioned in a story. If you are reading and have no idea what a condom is or how it works, please ask a PARENT or other trusted adult, not a peer, not Google. Oh, and don't PM me to ask either. It would be inappropriate for me to explain that. And please, don't be ashamed of your innocence. Just filter for K ratings and enjoy childhood while you can.**_

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Pepper Potts awoke to another freezing New York morning. She missed southern California on days like this. Her Park Avenue apartment was heated, of course, but she couldn't spend the entire day in her apartment. She'd have to bundle up like an Eskimo and brave the elements. The snow had been pretty the first time she saw it falling, but now it was all dirty and nowhere near as appealing. And the wind. What in the world was up with that freaking windchill factor? She'd never paid attention to such things before moving here. At least the snow didn't get into parking garages, but that freezing-to-the-bone wind managed to permeate anything that wasn't strictly indoors and heated.

She understood why the arc reactor was more important here than it could ever be in Los Angeles. These people would literally die without power in the winter. Californians needed power for their air conditioning and to run business, but those weren't life and death. Okay, sometimes people died in heat waves, but she had known people who didn't have air conditioning at all. One could live without it. She didn't see how it was humanly possible to live without heat in New York.

Unfortunately, it was the thing she hated most about New York that kept her from petitioning the Board (and Tony, who still held the majority of stock in SI) to just build the first clean energy building in Los Angeles, so she didn't have to be here. Besides, she was the one who insisted on overseeing the entire project. She could have hired someone else to do this. She could have arranged it so she just dropped in every few weeks to get a progress report and do a few inspections. But every time she thought about it, she knew she couldn't let go. This was _important_. Like the kind of important that outweighed her comfort and personal time.

And there _were_ sacrifices. Missing California with its mild winters was hard, but it was nothing compared to being separated from Tony.

She'd had a crush on Tony Stark ever since she started working at Stark Industries as an accountant. But then, who didn't? After one week as his personal assistant, she found it easier to keep her infatuation in check. She didn't want to be just another one of his one-night-stands. Her crush was never completely eradicated, just pressed into the back burner category of silly schoolgirl fantasy along with having a fairy godmother and winning the lottery. She channeled her devotion into managing his appointments and trying to put out all the public relations fires he started. And she was good at it.

But everything had changed after Afghanistan. She didn't believe it at first, but Tony _was_ different now. And now that he was no longer interested in one-night-stands, she could hardly believe that the one woman he would give that all up for was _her_. Not some knock-out model or Hollywood star. Her—Virginia Potts, the plain and ordinary.

It had been a rocky start, complicated by suddenly becoming CEO and Tony hiding the fact that the palladium in his chest was both keeping him alive and killing him, not to mention the enormous pressure involved in him being Iron Man. He should have listened to Rhodes and Coulson. He should have lied to the press and never admitted it. But then he wouldn't be Tony Stark.

So here they were, a high-profile billionaire superhero and the CEO of a major technology company, trying to have a relationship while living on opposite coasts. Pepper couldn't wait to see him again tonight. However, there was an entire day's work to be done before she could board the company jet and go home.

She rolled out of bed and dragged herself into the bathroom. Her stomach growled a protest, but she wasn't especially hungry. It was the eighth day in a row she wasn't feeling well. She'd almost convinced herself it was just the cold getting to her. She didn't have any flu symptoms, just that rumbly stomach. But now that her period was four days late, another possibility niggled at her mind. Last night, she had picked up a home pregnancy test to rule out the possibility. The chances were extremely remote, but she wanted proof so she could stop worrying. The test said to wait for first morning urine, so she had it ready on the sink counter. A dip in the stream and then she set it aside to develop while she showered. Once she had that minus sign to quash her worry, she could explore other causes. Maybe she wasn't getting enough sunshine in this blizzard world. That could make a person sick, right?

The hot water felt good and she lingered just a little. She might not have time to take another shower before seeing Tony, so she wanted to be as thorough as possible. She grabbed a towel and stepped out onto a cheesy pink rug she'd owned since college. It made this cold, lonely place feel just a little more like home.

She started to dry off when her eye caught the pregnancy test. Her jaw dropped. Positive. _Omigosh, what am I going to do? _She stood there, dripping, staring at the piece of plastic with that big glaring plus sign.

Tony had moved so slowly with her that she'd wondered at times if he was waiting to meet her parents or marry her or something. The night it finally happened, she'd been totally unprepared. She apologized for not being on the pill. Most of her adult life, she hadn't needed to bother because anyone she dated just couldn't measure up to her fantasy, no matter how far-fetched she knew it was. She wouldn't sleep with some other guy while thinking about Tony Stark.

Tony just laughed and gobbled up her admission to feed that monster ego of his. _Of course_ she couldn't think about anyone else while he was around. But he couldn't quite hide from her how much it touched him, how regretful it made him for being so indiscriminate in his past. "I got this," he promised. "Don't worry."

She of all people knew how many women he had been with. In the old days, she had been the one to _buy_ his protection for him, just like she handled so many other aspects of his personal life. He must have been incredibly careful or there would have been paternity suits by now. Pepper would bet everything she had that women had tried to trap Tony that way and never succeeded despite his often-inebriated state.

When he said he had it covered, she believed him. _Well, coverage must have leaked_. Panic entered her mind. Would Tony think she was trying to trap him? Would he want a baby? Was she ready to be a mother?

Suddenly, she felt a lot sicker and found her head over the toilet. _Dammit, I wanted tonight to be so special_. She briefly entertained the notion of putting off telling him. She should go see a doctor and get a professional diagnosis first, shouldn't she? But no sooner had the idea occurred to her but she knew she couldn't do it. It would be wrong after having berated him for not telling her he was dying of palladium poisoning, plus, she didn't think she could sit there and chat about building contractors and budget concerns with something like this hanging over her head. In fact, the more she thought about it, the harder she was fighting not to Skype him right now.

However, it was 3AM in Malibu—not the best time to spring news like this, even if Tony happened to be awake. No, she would wait until she saw him in person. Tonight.

Pepper finished drying off and dressed, barely able to stop thinking about pregnancy long enough to get her buttons in the right buttonholes. Coffee, her normal morning energizer, didn't sound good today. Would she have to watch her caffeine intake now? Sometime in the distant past, she remembered reading that saltine crackers were good for morning sickness. She scoured her pantry, looking for some, but the closest thing she could find was those hideous cheese crackers with peanut butter sandwiched inside and packed in a serving-sized rectangular cube. They looked like they had been sat on. _Why did I even save these?_

Nothing looked good, so she grabbed a vitamin water, layered on a sweater, parka, scarf and gloves, then headed out the door. She speed-dialed her chauffeur from the hall. His apartment was in the same building, but a few floors down. "Sorry I'm late, Happy. I'm on my way down."

"No problem, Boss. I'm already in the garage. I'll get the heat started."

Pepper smiled. He knew her well. "Great. See you there." She hit the disconnect on the phone with one hand and the call button for the elevator with a finger spared from the hand that held the water bottle.

A vaguely familiar voice behind her said, "No you won't."

But before she could turn to identify the speaker or argue with his statement, a folded white cloth appeared from over her shoulder and covered her nose and mouth. She'd seen enough movies to know it was chloroform, but she couldn't control the instinct to gasp and once she did, the sweet smell filled her nostrils and everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: To the anonymous "guest" reviewer I have no way to address privately: Please see my note before chapter 1, specifically the disclosure that I intend to write WITHIN movie canon. If you want to imagine an AU where Tony and Pepper really have a baby, you're going to have to write that yourself. If a fictional miscarriage is going to make anyone sad or depressed, don't waste more of your time and then get mad at me when I have been this obvious about my intentions. You have been warned.**_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Somewhere in the haze of sleep, Tony heard the phone indicator chime, but he couldn't quite wake up enough to answer it. JARVIS would take a message.

"Sir, Miss Potts is calling," JARVIS said.

"Uh huh," Tony mumbled incoherently.

"Sir, you asked her number to be put on priority. If you wish to disregard—"

_You must give the override code_. He had programmed the AI so he would have to be awake and sober enough to refuse on purpose. He glanced at the clock. 3:35 AM. Pepper was always good about remembering the time difference. She wouldn't call if it wasn't important. He propped up on an elbow. "Answer call, JARVIS." He didn't have to use a receiver as there were microphones and computer terminals all over his house to relay calls.

"Boss, it's me," said a voice that was clearly not Pepper.

"Happy, do you have any idea what time it is?" he groaned, letting his head flop back down on the pillow.

"Pepper called me twenty minutes ago to say she was on her way down. I waited in the garage with the engine running. She never arrived. I found her phone next to the elevator on the eighteenth floor. She wouldn't answer her door, so I broke it down to check on her. She wasn't there. I don't like this. Something's wrong. Thought you'd want to know."

Tony bolted upright. "Have you called the police yet?"

"That would be my next call after Iron Man." The smirk was detectable without needing a visual. Happy never quite caught on to using the video call function. He had used voice-only.

"Good thinking, Hap. But hold off on that a couple hours. I can be there in ninety-seven minutes." Tony leapt from the bed and yanked on the dresser pull of his shirt drawer.

"I can't just not call the cops! She's been mugged or something!"

"Do you have any evidence of that? If anyone is around, ask if they heard a scream or saw anything suspicious. Otherwise, it's just a missing persons report and they'll make you wait 24 hours anyway."

"So if I find someone who heard a scream, then I can call the cops?" Happy was not the kind to sit around for 24 hours and wait patiently.

Tony didn't like to wait either, which was why he would be blasting out of here as soon as he got some clothes on and made it down to the Mark 5. The ex-boxer was fiercely loyal to him, as evidenced by the fact he called. But if it ever came down to it, he'd probably choose Pepper over him, which was why Tony approved of Happy being her driver/bodyguard in the first place. However, chances were, it would take a while for Happy to find a witness, if one could be found at all, and then it would take the NYPD a while to send out an investigator. Tony could still beat them. Much as he wanted to be first on the scene, he wasn't going to ask Happy to hold back. "Yeah, go ahead. But don't let anyone else into her apartment. I'm on my way."

"Ninety-seven minutes. I'm holding you to that."

Tony disconnected the call. It wasn't like he planned to stop at Starbucks along the way, but sheesh. It would take at least five and a half hours by jet and there could be storms and headwinds and all kinds of things in his way. He wanted to be there in thirty seconds, but he had to live with what was possible, not what he wanted. But it was no use taking out frustrations on Happy. The guy was worried about Pepper, just as he was. Tony hurriedly threw a shirt over his head and pulled on a pair of pants.

"JARVIS, call Bambi at SI and have Pepper put on sick leave. Cancel all her appointments. We don't need anyone else getting suspicious."

"Yes, sir."

"Then find out what course and altitude will give us the fastest time to New York." Pants zipped, he slipped into a pair of loafers. He would normally wear socks, but he didn't want to take the time right now. He started down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"Coordinating with NOAA and FAA databases now, sir. Your flight plan will be ready when you reach the basement."

He dashed through the kitchen and down another set of stairs, then he keyed in his password on the glass touchpad at the entrance to his personal workshop. The War Machine suit was back in the Mark II bay. He'd finished all the modifications on it last night. He'd put those repairs ahead of the Mark VI, since he had Mark V to use in the meantime. He was a little sorry now that he did. Mark VI was the strongest and most technically advanced suit he had. If Pepper was really in trouble, he would want the best. However, Mark V was built for portability. He wouldn't have his garage in New York, so folding down into a suitcase would be convenient. Not to mention, the lighter weight would probably make it faster in the sky since the thrusters for Mark V and VI were both the same. He was relieved the state of repairs was making the choice easy.

He pulled the suitcase down from its storage pedestal, unlocked it, and set it on the floor. One foot activated the armoring sequence that soon had Tony covered in red and gold metal. The ceiling exit tube opened like an iris.

"How are my flight systems, JARVIS?"

"All systems charged to full capacity, sir. Projected arrival at Park Avenue, New York: 95 minutes, 27 seconds. Would you care to—"

Tony shot out the exit tube and into the sky. "Take off manually? Yes, I would, but engage auto-pilot once we hit altitude." The head's up display gave him two different visuals, one showing the linear course from Malibu to New York, the other showing a graph of the altitude changes to be taken at various points, presumably to avoid bad weather or crashing into a 747. He had way too much on his mind to worry about adhering to a complex flight plan and he didn't have time to waste by deviating.

"Taking flight control now, sir," the AI said.

Tony felt the minute changes signaling the release of manual control, so smooth, it was hardly noticeable. Only his intimate harmony with the suit made him attuned to it. He hadn't been lying to Congress when he testified that the suit was a prosthetic. It was a part of him and he of it. He had programmed JARVIS personally and therefore he trusted it to get him where he needed to be as fast as the suit's capabilities allowed.

For the first time since the jarring phone call, Tony allowed himself to relax. A little. He couldn't just go back to sleep like nothing ever happened. The suit was comfortable enough—temperature controlled and ergonomically designed so the thrusters didn't need some convoluted pose to operate correctly. There was just no way he could get his mind to relax enough to allow actual sleep.

"JARVIS, get me Pepper's phone records and anything she did on Stark Industries' computers."

The HUD listed the phone records immediately. Evidently, JARVIS had taken the liberty of downloading when Happy called.

"Accessing Oracle network now, sir." A retinal beam passed over his eyeball to scan for authorization. He'd never told Pepper he could do this, but after Obadiah Stane's betrayal, she should have known he would have programmed the system so something like that could never happen again. Not that he had even the slightest worry Pepper was doing anything underhanded. No, if anything, Pepper was the one double-checking everyone else. But diligence like that could get her in trouble. Perhaps it already had.

He wished he could convince himself she was just playing hooky from work—purposely ditch the phone to be unreachable so she could enjoy a day at the spa or shopping on Fifth Avenue. Wasn't that what most women did? Pepper wasn't '_most women_'. He couldn't perform the mental gymnastics to even imagine her acting like that. She was a workaholic to the point of obsession, and even if she wanted to take a break, she'd never lie to Happy or intentionally leave her phone anywhere but a locked briefcase or inside her apartment. It was conceivable she dropped the phone and didn't notice, but then she still would have turned up at the car. A lost phone would have been infinitely preferable to a lost Pepper.

He finished going through her phone records. Tony recognized 90% as business contacts, and all the rest were calls to carry-out food joints, dry cleaners, and him. Everything was routine. However, he did feel a pang of guilt when he noticed the total amount of time he'd spent talking to her versus just about anyone else but the dry cleaner. Bambi, her secretary, talked to her more than he did and she saw Pepper in person five days a week.

What if he never saw her again? Was he really so busy that he couldn't just listen to her rant about the cold or get on his case for ignoring his own R&D guys? Or heaven forbid, maybe he could tell her how much he loved hearing her voice or seeing her smile, or what an amazing job she was doing as CEO. Then again, maybe he should start small and work up to the big things.

"JARVIS, if we find Pepper and she doesn't resign in writing after this, you will remind me whenever we haven't spoken for more than three consecutive days."

"Shall I count the voicemails you listen to but never answer?"

"No. Only actual conversations lasting more than five minutes."

"Very well, sir. Are you ready for the computer data you requested?"

"Yes. Close phone records and show me what you got."

The computer records were no more helpful than the phone. The Stark Tower project was ahead of schedule and on budget. Judging from the amount of screen time she spent reviewing things, nothing was sneaking in under her scrutiny. Pepper spent 15 minutes or less per day playing solitaire, and that was always at lunch time. She hadn't been on YouTube in at least three months and her Twitter account hadn't been updated since she was promoted to CEO. Tony whispered, "All work and no play, honey?"

JARVIS replied, "Perhaps you would care to see Miss Potts' personal calendar, sir." The AI didn't wait for Tony's reaction, but displayed it simultaneous to the offer. None of her corporate appointments were listed, but he'd already seen the business appointment book, which had been saved on the SI network, so both she and Bambi could make changes to it at any time.

This was different. It was filled in haphazardly with names, most of them unfamiliar. There were no times or meeting places mentioned, just the word 'email' followed by a checkmark. About 5% of the names had 'card' and a checkmark beside them instead. He saw the Potts surname on several of the card variety. The checkmarks ended in the present and all the names in the future had none.

Tony would have assumed this was nothing more than her birthday reminder list except that every weekend she had spent in Malibu had HOME in oversized red capitals that were also double-underlined and bolded. The weekends he had come to New York were marked TONY in the same manner.

He felt his eyes stinging. "How much further, JARVIS?"

"Twenty-three minutes, seventeen seconds."

He couldn't sleep and he couldn't just do nothing. "Get me crime activity reports for Pepper's neighborhood. NYPD, FBI, everything. List by degree, murders first."

"Search radius, sir?"

"Start with five miles."

And so began the brain-numbing stream of information, most of it senseless, all of it making him feel like he should add some kind of bathing function to the next suit upgrade. He let JARVIS run it by like a bad slideshow, taking in only the barest of details so he could eliminate each entry from having any discernible connection. However, it was quickly becoming apparent that plenty of suffering in New York had no reason or logic connected to it at all. All the research in the world would be useless if Pepper was a victim of some drug-crazed junkie or random psychopath.

He extended the radius to seven miles and went through half of the new material before he felt the suit descending. "Call Pepper's phone," he told JARVIS.

Her smiling avatar appeared next to the number on the HUD and Tony resisted the urge to wince. The first ring didn't complete before the call connected. "There were no witnesses," Happy barked defensively. "And where are you?"

"Hello to you too. I'm about a thousand feet above your head. Meet me on the roof."

"Yeah? Okay." Happy hung up.

Tony landed and had the Mark V all folded down into its suitcase and locked up tight before the door opened and Happy glared at him with that _it's-about-time-you-got-here_ look on his face. He was sorry it had taken so long, but he couldn't have made it any faster and he certainly didn't have to apologize to Happy for living in Malibu. Still, he felt kind of sorry for the big guy, standing around, not having anything to do but pace the hall all this time. He handed him the Mark V. "Don't lose that."

Happy nodded, his irritation finally dissolving into what looked like relief. Both of them hurried down the stairs.

Pepper's front door looked nearly normal, except for the broken wood around the knob. Still, Tony wouldn't have wanted to try to break it without having a crow bar or battering ram or a nice repulsor to help. He gripped both sides of the door and lifted it to move so he and Happy could get in. The place wasn't quite as clean as it was when she knew he was coming, but it was ten times better than anything he could ever maintain without the help of three full-time maids. No dirty dishes. No clothes on the floor. No takeout boxes in the living room. He was almost sorry it looked so nice. "No signs of struggle here."

"Nope," Happy affirmed as if this was a point of pride for him. "Like I said, I found the phone by the elevator. Whatever happened, happened out there." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

Tony still wanted to be sure he didn't miss a clue, so he checked her bedroom and then the bathroom. There on the counter was something he didn't expect. A pregnancy test with a positive result. He froze in shock and stared at it. For a split second, he thought, _Whose?_ because _he_ had been careful.

But then he remembered how _his_ was the only name in bold red caps and the fact Pepper didn't have any free time to cheat on him anyway. She was so head over heels for him that she was practically a virgin. She admitted she had been pining away for years, swearing off all men because none could compare to Tony Stark.

This was just so... unexpected. Why hadn't she said anything? He looked down beside the toilet to find a brand new Iron Man waste can—the kind they made for 8-year-old boys to put in their bedroom. It only held a toothpaste box and a thin strip of paper. He reached in and pulled out the paper. It was a drugstore receipt for toothpaste, alka-seltzer, and a pregnancy test. It was less than twelve hours old.

His mind went into backpedal mode. Maybe the test wasn't even hers. Maybe she had a girlfriend sleep over. Maybe...?

"You find something?" Happy called from the living room.

"No," he said immediately, tucking the test and receipt in his pocket. If the cops came in here, he didn't want them finding that and possibly leaking it to the media. He carried the novelty waste bin out with him. "Just checking out the new décor. Classic."

Happy chuckled. "She figured you'd get a kick out of that."

He set the bin down and gave the apartment one last scan. There was nothing in here that would help. He tapped Happy on the shoulder. "Show me where you found the phone."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The hall outside the elevator was incredibly boring but for one detail. Up in the corner, well-hidden by an elaborate cornice, was the crown jewel: a security camera. Tony waved at it. Just as he turned back, he noticed Happy rolling his eyes. Okay, so it did look narcissistic, but he was thinking he'd be viewing the footage and his wave would provide a reference point. But as touchy as Happy was right now, Tony didn't want to explain himself.

"We should watch that," Happy said, pointing to the camera now himself.

"Good idea. I'll go talk to the manager. Why don't you wait here and if anyone comes by, ask them which apartment they live in. We may need fingerprints." In reality, he just wanted to ramp up the Tony Stark charm on whoever held the security footage and that would be more difficult with "Mr. Sunshine" here tagging along.

Happy nodded. Tony wasn't sure if it was leftover deference from when he was Tony's employee or the realization he wouldn't be helping, but it didn't really matter. Happy would do anything for Pepper.

Tony took the elevator down to the lobby. The desk clerk was male, which was a little unfortunate. Tony did better with women. However, Iron Man was popular with both genders and if Iron Man devotion didn't cut it, there was always dead presidents. He patted his back pocket. _Crap_. He'd left his wallet at home in the rush. No dead presidents. Summoning his most charming smile, he stepped up to the desk.

"Mr. Stark. How can I help you?"

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. It was better when he didn't have to try to convince people he really was Tony Stark, especially when he'd left his driver's license at home. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "I need to speak to someone about security. Can you hook me up?"

The man nodded. "Right away, Mr. Stark."

Being the genius he was, Tony was marginally aware that ordinary schmucks (i.e. anyone who wasn't Tony Stark) didn't get quite the same level of courtesy he did, but he was so used to it, it didn't really register on the wow-o-meter. This guy could be hoping to be hired at Stark Tower when it was ready. And for recognizing him and being helpful and polite, Tony would put in a good word if he asked. He glanced at the nametag and filed away the name, Kyle.

Kyle must have pressed a panic button or something, because he didn't even have to make a call before a guy who was built like Happy came through a door behind him. Kyle turned and addressed him. "Hey, George. Mr. _Stark_ asked to speak with you." Kyle emphasized 'Stark', like he thought George might not know who he was and he didn't want an embarrassing moment.

George didn't look surprised or wowed. He smiled politely at Tony. "Please don't tell me your lovely CEO has a clogged drain we've overlooked."

_Ah, so he knew the connection_. So much the better. "No, no, nothing like that. Can we go somewhere private?" He didn't want to discuss even a hypothetical mugging where other residents might hear and he was pretty sure George would appreciate that once he started talking. George motioned for him to come back behind the desk and through the door where he'd just emerged.

He led Tony to a small office, swept his hand over the chairs, and waited for Tony to sit first. George took the chair behind the desk.

Tony got right to the point. "Miss Potts called her driver this morning and said she was on her way down, but she never made it. Mr. Hogan found her phone outside the elevator on the eighteenth floor, but she's missing. I was wondering if I could look at your security camera footage."

George frowned. He didn't like the sound of this any more than Tony did. "Have you called the police yet?"

Tony shook his head. "I've got nothing to give them. She's only been missing a few hours. But if there's something on your security tape that can show foul play, then they'll listen." Actually, Tony didn't think the police would help much. They were overworked and underpaid and New York was too full of crime already. He'd hire a private investigator if he needed to, and he'd suit up personally if force was called for.

"Eighteenth floor, right? What time do you need?"

Tony did a quick calculation from 3:35 in California to 6:35 New York time, then back twenty minutes that Happy mentioned and added little leeway on either side for good measure. "6 A.M. to 6:45."

George wrote it down and then rolled his chair toward the computer and started typing. Tony tried to be patient, but it was hard when this guy had to type so much and mouse-click through so many stupid screens just to give the command to do the search. How could people stand this inefficiency? JARVIS would have the recording cued up and be two minutes in already.

However, what the computer lacked in efficiency, George made up for with his practiced eye. He turned the monitor to an angle Tony could see just as Pepper was locking her apartment door.

"That's her. Perfect," Tony commented.

They watched as she made the call to Happy, never stopping in her trek to the elevator. She was on the phone no more than fifteen seconds before moving it away from her ear and touching the disconnect. She reached out for the elevator call button with her other hand. She held a water bottle, but she only needed one finger to hit the button.

Then, from the stairway door, a red-haired male swooped in behind her, covering her mouth and nose with a folded white cloth. Pepper's eyes widened in sheer terror and then she slumped over, unconscious. Every muscle in Tony's body tightened, but he couldn't find his voice. Another man appeared, this one wearing a ski mask, to help carry her limp body out through the stairway door. They picked up the water bottle she had dropped, but they didn't seem to notice her fallen phone. In seconds, she was gone and the hall was empty again.

George did a rewind and slo-mo, which was almost too difficult to watch with that terrified look in Pepper's eyes. He isolated several shots out of the footage and printed them. They were all grainy, the color was terrible, and the unmasked man was mostly obscured by Pepper, but it was certainly evidence of foul play. "I'll call the cops," the security man said solemnly. He reached for the desk phone.

"Can I get a copy of that?" Tony asked quickly, pointing to the monitor. He wanted to leave before he had to hear the crime described again.

George nodded. "Jump or flash?"

"Flash, thanks." JARVIS would be able to analyze it, maybe clean stuff up enough to ID the guy.

George transferred the footage to the tiny square, placed it in a plastic case, and held the case out to Tony.

Tony had a major peeve against being handed things, but he needed this and there was no one else to take it for him. He probably could have asked him to just set it on the desk, but that seemed a bit rude after he'd asked for it and George had been so accommodating. Tony bit back his aversion and opened his palm to accept it. He closed his fingers around the tiny case and stood. "Thanks for this. Oh, and you'll find her front door damaged, but that wasn't any crime. Her driver broke it in the process of looking for her. Stark Industries will pay for the damage."

George quirked a brow. "Thanks, but we'll cover it. I'll get someone on that right away. I don't want her apartment burglarized while she's... uh... out. The cops will want to talk to Hogan. Do you know where he is?"

He chuckled. "Guarding that door he broke. Seems _he_ doesn't want her apartment burglarized either."

George met his eyes. "We'll take care of the door. You find _her_."

"I plan to." Tony left the security office, waved to Kyle as he passed, and headed back to the elevator.

He debated with himself how to break it to Happy, but there was no way to sugar-coat it. Both of them already knew it had to be something of this nature because Pepper wouldn't just disappear. Why did it hurt so much more now he had seen it with his own eyes? He got off on the eighteenth floor and found Happy just where he thought he'd be, guarding her door. The big guy looked up expectantly.

"She was kidnapped."

"I should have been here. I shouldn't have let her get on the elevator alone."

Tony shook his head. "She's not going to let you treat her like a baby any more than I did. There's a doorman here. He's supposed to stop riffraff from coming in, but it's a free country. They could have posed as plumbers or florists—anything, really."

"They?"

"Two of 'em." He held up his fist. "Got them both on camera. One's wearing a ski mask, but we may get lucky on the other. Where's the football?"

Happy stepped aside. "Living room."

"Cops'll be here soon. They'll wanna talk to you."

"I don't know anything."

"They don't know that. Besides, you knew enough. You called me." Tony hurried past him into Pepper's small living room. He unlocked the Mark V and spoke into the case. "JARVIS, give me the flash memory slot."

The hardware had a specific routine for turning into the armored suit, but without getting a foot in the boot to activate that sequence, it could function as simply a repository to house the AI. Parts shifted and the flash drive slot appeared, along with a multitude of other interfaces. Tony slipped the memory card in. "Security video of Pepper's attack happens around 6:15AM. See if you can ID the red-headed guy not wearing a mask."

"Yes, sir. Attempting digital enhancement of the image..."

A holographic projection materialized from the Mark V, giving Tony the same kind of display he would have at home in his garage. He could now see what the AI was accomplishing with each phase of digital wizardry. Eventually, the graininess was cleaned up and the features sharpened, but it was still a complete stranger staring back at him.

"Initiating facial recognition and cross-matching criminal records," JARVIS said. A split screen showed the finished picture with neon green lines connecting the pertinent points on the face and to the right, a screen blitzed through the database, flashing photographs too fast to see, while the AI compared each one to the sample.

Tony watched a few seconds. "How long, J?"

"If the perpetrator has a criminal record, four hours maximum."

"And if not?"

"Accessing driver's licenses and passports worldwide could take up to three days, sir."

"Pepper may not _have_ three days."

JARVIS had no answer for that. He was a very smart computer, but he wasn't God.

"Okay, just keep working," he said, mostly to convince himself this was 'doing something'. What he really wanted was to suit up, swoop in and rescue Pepper, and then bust some heads. He stared at the face of the man who had grabbed the woman he loved, the woman who was carrying his child. Something about the eyes behind those Ozzy Osbourne glasses niggled at his brain, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Why did the other guy wear a ski mask, when all he did was help carry, while this s.o.b. who obviously drugged her into unconsciousness, didn't even wear dark shades or a hat or anything?

"Sir, I have an 87% match," JARVIS reported. The blur of portraits on the right stopped and focused on just one picture.

Tony squinted at the two photographs. "Remove facial recognition aids," he ordered.

The green lines disappeared. The almost-match had straight blonde hair instead of red and wavy, and he wasn't wearing any glasses in the mug shot.

"Add glasses and a wig to match our perp."

JARVIS complied.

"That's him. One hundred percent."

"The match is still 87%, sir. Hair and accessories are not part of the recognition protocol."

"Eighty-seven? Come on. They look exactly the same."

JARVIS zoomed in and redrew the analysis lines, showing the discrepancies. The line between the eyes blinked red, as well as the forehead height and something about the cheek.

"Maybe he went on a diet, you know, lost weight."

"One cannot cause one's eyes to grow further apart by diet, sir. It is a skeletal feature and—"

"Mute." Tony understood how facial recognition worked. He didn't want to argue, but he was ready to swear in court that the two faces from the holographic projection were the same guy whether the software said they were or not. He wanted this guy and he wanted him badly. With JARVIS silenced, he started reading the rap sheet that went with the identity: Sean Brennan, long list of aliases, did time in the New York state pen for grand theft, but had successfully completed parole and was off the radar. Last job was a bike messenger for Amar Deshpande, Esq., attorney-at-law.

Tony memorized the employer's address as well as the last known residence. All the dates were several years ago, so he didn't hold out too much hope they'd be valid, but it was a start. He reached out and swiped his hand over the holographic display to get the next page of information. He studied everything in the file, memorizing as much as he could because he wanted nothing more than to turn this guy into toast. But only after he led him to Pepper. Her safety came first.

A red rectangular box containing the word 'ALERT' started flashing in his peripheral. This was JARVIS's way of begging to be allowed to talk again.

"What is it, J?"

"I expanded the search to recent live feeds. Facial recognition found another match, this one 100%." A third portrait was added to the two already up. This one looked just like the other two.

"What am I looking at then? Twins?"

JARVIS zoomed out on the newest picture and showed the background. It had been taken just outside the minimum security prison in upstate New York, more popularly known as Club Fed. The prison records labeled him Mark O'Dell, and he stood next to a man labeled Amar Deshpande. The footage was time-stamped only two days ago.

Tony had a really bad feeling at the pit of his stomach. _No. It couldn't be_.

Before he could articulate his doubts, JARVIS displayed a fourth photograph, this one showing Deshpande and O'Dell again, headed into the building. "Sir, this one was taken thirty minutes prior. This face is a 100% match to Sean Brennan, but only an 87% match to the kidnap suspect."

Tony drew a deep breath. "A lawyer and his office assistant made a prison visit." _Then someone _**else**_ came out, wearing Sean Brennan's face. And that someone committed Pepper's kidnapping, wearing a mask after all._ "Who did they visit, JARVIS?" Tony closed his eyes and hoped he was wrong.

"Justin Hammer, sir."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Flight time, JARVIS. Suit me up."

The interface panel that had the holographic projector slid smoothly away and the opening for his foot appeared. Tony stepped into the boot, shoved his hands inside the gauntlets, and let the armor form around him. It didn't remove all his anxiety, but it energized him and pumped his spirits. He walked toward Happy, clunking and clanking with every step. There wasn't any kind of stealth mode on the ground and he didn't really care.

"Did you find her?" Happy asked.

"Not yet, but I think I know who took her."

"Who?"

If Happy told the cops, they might alert Club Fed before he got there. It was better he didn't know, so he wouldn't have to lie. "Tell ya later."

Happy scowled, but to his credit, he didn't argue. He gave Tony a thumb's up as he passed and called, "Go get 'em," as Iron Man tromped down the hall.

Tony clanked his way up the stairs to the roof. The skies were cloudy and the wind whistled around the rooftops. His HUD displayed the outside temperature as 42 degrees Fahrenheit, but he didn't feel cold. Burning determination aside, the suit was perfectly temperature controlled. He fired his thrusters and shot off into the sky. "Flight time to the prison, J?"

"Eight minutes at maximum thrust, sir."

"Eight? I didn't think it was that far."

"I'm routing you around a blizzard." A live satellite image appeared on the HUD with a diagram of the flight plan JARVIS had programmed.

"I can go through that," Tony insisted.

"Sir, you'd be fighting a headwind that would make the trip longer than going around."

"Fine, let's go over it then." He used manual control to gain altitude until he was above the clouds. It was odd to go from storm to calm in a matter of seconds. It was bright, sunny, and peaceful up here. He wished he could escape the emotional blizzard as easily. Some part of his mind had been chewing on the possibilities since he had been so rudely awakened.

Kidnapping was a new fear. Before Pepper, there had never been anyone he cared about enough to be in danger. He had no family and he'd never spent more than one night with any woman, and the press made sure everyone knew it. He'd taken it slow with Pepper, but he didn't hide like it was something to be ashamed of. Most people probably didn't knew the depth of his feelings, but they'd been seen together in public and there had been gossip.

He was ready to pay anything to ensure Pepper's safe return, but knowing Hammer was involved took the threat to a whole new level. Hammer wasn't just out for money, although he probably felt Tony owed him what his lawyers had soaked him for. No, Justin Hammer wanted revenge, not just revenge _on him_ for defending his own Expo, but on _Pepper_ for interrupting his stupid presentation. Never mind it was Vanko who hijacked all his hardware right under his nose. Never mind it was Agent Romanoff who strong-armed him into spilling his guts.

Pepper had so little to do with Hammer's demise that she hadn't even been called as a witness in his trial. But that sucker-slurping pansy would blame the most vulnerable female he could, just for calling 911 in the middle of a crisis. This kidnapping was undoubtedly designed to hurt Tony, but he couldn't help but worry she was more than just a means to get to _him_. Hammer had escaped from prison to do this. He had nothing to lose and plenty of reasons to kill her. Above all, Tony would not accept that outcome. He hated Hammer with a passion, but he'd let him get away if it meant saving Pepper.

And as troubling as it was to think about Hammer after he'd written him off to oblivion for the next twelve years, he now had to face the fact the mega-wuss wasn't in this alone. He had help. Who would go to such lengths to break his sorry butt out of the slammer? Money bought a lot in this world, as Tony knew well, but Hammer wasn't supposed to have enough money left to his name to pay anyone the kind of cash it should cost to actually _take his place_ in prison. So who was this Sean Brennan/Mark O'Dell character? What did Hammer offer him?

JARVIS nudged the Mark V to descend below the clouds again. Tony fought the urge to allow his emotions to mirror the dark clouds that cast a depressing pall of gloom over everything.

The prison below was surrounded by grass and trees, looking more inviting to Tony than most of the Bronx. From above, he saw the tennis courts and swimming pool that earned the place its nickname of Club Fed. Tall, razor-wired fence shattered any illusion this was any resort.

He used the repulsors in his palms to maneuver his landing so he was outside the fence. He wasn't here to cause a stir. He would leave the suit in a locker and have a chat as Tony Stark. Hammer had pretended they were friendly rivals. Maybe Mark O'Dell would slip up and say something that would help him make sense of all this.

"Suitcase mode, JARVIS."

"Good luck, sir," the AI said in parting as the Mark V reversed the armoring routine.

He carried the red and gold metal case with him and walked in through the visitor's entrance. A male receptionist sat at the desk. Tony was starting to question his luck until he remembered this was a men's prison. He could understand why it might be hard to recruit female office help. He stepped up and put on the charm smile.

Recognition and some wow-factor registered on the desk jockey's face. "You're Tony Stark!"

"Yes, I am." He could see the awkward fan-gushing coming and he didn't want to go there. He rushed on toward business. "I'd like to visit Justin Hammer."

Brows arched in surprise. "Doesn't he, like, hate your guts?"

"Probably. But how many visitors does he get?"

"None besides his lawyer. Have a seat. We'll ask him."

_Crap_. He didn't really want Brennan to have any choice in the matter. Tony had to admit, if he was locked up, he wouldn't want to see Hammer come rub his nose in it. Someone pretending to be Hammer probably wouldn't want to answer questions either. He started planning his next move, which was to go to the warden and show him the evidence Hammer wasn't even in custody. He could only hope he'd be allowed to question the imposter.

Tony sat, keeping the Mark V between his feet. He noticed there were others in the foyer and he wasn't in the mood to sign autographs or chat right now. He had half a mind to announce his girlfriend had been kidnapped and he was sick with worry, so leave him the hell alone, but worry was new territory and he wasn't comfortable with the vulnerability gnawing at him, certainly not enough to tell strangers. He snatched up the nearest magazine and hid behind it. Ironically, he found himself in the "Special Stark Expo Edition" printed over a year ago.

He skimmed over the articles, marveling at how differently the Expo sounded without him being consumed over palladium poisoning and without the knowledge of its untimely demise. Hope for the future. Innovation and optimism. It was a good idea. Give the world a little time to forget, and he could try it again someday.

"Mr. Hammer agreed to see you, but you can't take that back there," the guard said, indicating the suitcase with a nod.

"Ah, saw me in Monaco, did you?" Tony said conversationally. "Do you have a safe place for me to put it?"

The guard took him into an anteroom where it looked like all the visitors stashed their valuables and restricted items. Tony employed a locker, and took the locker key and the suitcase key with him, shoving both deep in his pocket. He didn't feel as secure as he would have liked, but no one else had enough knowledge of the suit to use it without his voice command, and it would take an awful lot to remove JARVIS's security subroutines. Only the guard knew where he put it and prison guards were fairly incorruptible, he hoped.

The visitation room was being used by two other inmates, but there was room for at least ten to use the room at the same time. Too bad Tony couldn't be alone with him, like he had been with Vanko. At least it was minimum security, so they didn't have to talk through glass.

Tony slipped into a chair behind a spartan table across from a man who was the spitting image of Justin Hammer. He had to force himself not to stare at the copycat, but he was in no mood to play games."How much are they paying you?"

"Huh?" The man certainly had Hammer's idiot look down pat, and his voice was rather good too. No wonder they hadn't caught him yet.

"Hammer. Deshpande. Whoever paid you to take his place. How much?"

The Hammer clone stared at Tony for a moment, probably longer than the real Hammer was capable of without saying something stupid. He dropped the fake voice and spoke in a low tone, "Not everyone can be bought. I serve a higher cause."

"Nope. Kidnapping innocent women is no high cause. Care to try again?"

The man bored into Tony with his gaze, like it was some epic staring contest.

Tony lifted his hand to his ear. "Can't hear you, O'Dell. Or is it Brennan?"

Nothing. Not even a reaction.

"Well, if you're not going to say anything, we're done." He stood.

The man scoffed.

"Look, the jig is up. If Deshpande told you he'd get you out, you've been had. Breaking someone out of prison is a felony. Whatever payment you were supposed to get is gonna be useless where you're going." He paused, studying his prey. It was too bad this wasn't the real Hammer. The wuss wouldn't have this kind of steely determination in the face of defeat. However, Tony realized his guy wasn't the enemy. He was the enemy's tool—the pawn, the fall guy. Tony leaned over and spoke in a whisper he hoped sounded compassionate. "Help me find Pepper and I'll help you. I've got connections."

The man smiled. Tony saw Hammer's smirky lips, but Brennan's haughty eyes said 'you can't touch me and I know it.'

Without warning, Tony lunged with both hands splayed and fingers curled, aiming for as much face as he could get his hands on.

A prison guard rushed over, looking like he was about to beat Tony with his night stick or something, but Tony had what he wanted and backed off. He wiggled the torn and deflated Hammer face in front of the guard, both for shock value and to vindicate the "attack" he'd made on the poor, defenseless prisoner. When the guard lowered his stick, Tony threw the mask on the table with a rubbery splat, turned, and walked away. Behind him, he heard the slight scuffle of Brennan's arrest.

He waited until he was behind a closed door to speak again. "Tell the warden I want to be involved when he's moved. Call Stark Industries, extension 1."

He collected the Mark V and went back outside to suit up. "JARVIS, route any Stark Industries calls from this location straight to me."

"Yes, sir. Will we be going to Mr. Deshpande's office next?"

"You read my mind."

"I do try, sir."

"Take me around the blizzard this time." He was feeling too stormy inside to tolerate the sunny view from above. JARVIS displayed the flight plan on the HUD but Tony didn't pay it much attention. Brennan had only been available for questioning because he was locked up. If Deshpande had any brains at all, he would be long gone. "Give me everything you have on Deshpande, J."

"How far back would you like me to look, sir?"

"His cub scout leader. His Kindergarten teacher. The kid who stole his lunch money. Everything."

"Public data displaying now." The HUD showed the results from five internet search engines. "Comprehensive report estimated in one hundred seventy-two minutes."

"I can fly from Malibu to New York in less than two hours, yet it takes almost three for a simple profile?"

"No, sir. A simple profile would require nineteen point four minutes. You asked for 'everything'."

A smile tugged at his lips but refused to form. "That's right. You start on 'everything' and in the meanwhile, feed me what we've already got." The HUD tracked his eye movements and JARVIS was already programmed to turn pages when his eye reached the end and pause if he nodded off. He filled his flight time with the incredibly boring details of Amar Deshpande's law career, his uneventful law school stint, and his (mostly losing) bowling league.

Tony arrived at the Manhattan office space just as he finished up on Deshpande's days in college fraternity. UCLA pre-law students certainly had a different path than what he'd experienced at MIT, but so far, he'd found no clues to how some relatively mundane lawyer became involved in breaking Justin Hammer out of prison.

The lawyer's office was empty, but the rent was paid for another two months. Tony asked around. No one knew Amar Deshpande by name, but when they were shown his picture, everyone said he was courteous and polite, but not particularly talkative. No one in the building had seen him in weeks.

Frustrated, Tony returned to the apartment building on Park Avenue. The police were there, dusting for fingerprints and questioning residents. They asked him when he arrived and how he found out, obviously checking Happy's statement.

"Have you been contacted with a ransom demand yet?" some FBI agent asked.

"No."

"Are you sure no one else would be contacted—parents, a rich brother, maybe?"

Tony was one hundred percent certain Justin Hammer didn't give a damn whether she had any family he might possibly exploit. But the cops didn't know Hammer was the kidnapper and Tony wasn't going to tell them unless they asked. Pepper once told him she had no one else besides him. She had never talked about family or mentioned visiting them. "She sends birthday cards to some cousins, I think, but she's not close to any of them."

"We'll set up a phone tap."

Tony resisted the urge to laugh. "I think I can handle tracing a call, officer. I'll let you know when the drop is."

"You're not seriously considering giving in to their demands, are you?" The agent looked like he wanted to perform a blood alcohol test right there. Either that, or run his prints, because Iron Man was too tough to cave to something as petty as some girl held hostage.

"Not considering. Decided. I give them whatever they want."

The agent didn't say it, but the look in his eyes screamed, _Tony Stark is a pushover_.

Well, maybe he was when it came to Pepper. But these bozos didn't even know Hammer had been roaming free for two days and they certainly didn't know Hammer like he did. He didn't care what they thought. He had two goals: Get Pepper safe. Then, and only then, make damned sure Hammer couldn't do this again. Ever.

He didn't need their help and he didn't need their approval.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Pepper drifted vaguely toward consciousness. Part of her didn't want to wake up—a large part, in fact. Her muscles felt intensely stiff and achey and she didn't have the strength to move them. Or maybe she had slept on everything wrong and lost circulation in her entire body. Was that possible? Some part of her mind seemed to think it was. Fuzzy logic also suggested it was best to remain in that state of paralysis because moving would be worse. Another part of her brain could not figure out how she could be paralyzed and yet hurt so much.

And what the hell had she done to her body anyway? This was at least ten times worse than the first time she joined the gym and tried to do too much, too fast. She tried to make her mind shut off again and go back to sleep, but something wasn't letting her.

It was cold.

_God, I hate New York. I want to go home. When do I get to go home again? _Was she going home next weekend or was Tony coming here? How many more days was it until the weekend anyway?

When she attempted to pull her covers up, her fuzzy brain finally registered something seriously wrong. She couldn't reach out. That spurred her to slightly more lucidity and she realized it wasn't just stiffness stopping her. Another second of trying and alarm closed in. Her hands were bound behind her back. Something sharp was digging into her wrists. Panic pulled her, finally, from slumber, but it was tempered with fear and the accompanying idea she might be better off playing unconscious.

Slowly, in case she was being watched, Pepper tried to open her eyes. At first, she thought she was too groggy to send the right message to her eyelids, but then she realized she was blindfolded. About then, she also felt the tape covering her lips and half of both cheeks. He ankles were bound together, but the binding wasn't cutting like whatever was on her wrists. Maybe it was soft cloth or wide tape? Her heartbeat quickened as she became more aware of her circumstances.

_What happened? Where am I and how did I get here?_

Her memories returned slowly and incomplete, as if they were snowy images playing on an old-fashioned television with a makeshift antenna made of aluminum foil. The shower. The pregnancy test. Looking for something to eat. _Did I ever find anything?_ She had phoned Happy, but she wasn't sure if that had been before she left her apartment or after. Happy said he had the car running and the heater on. She had a vague feeling she made it to the hallway, but she couldn't remember if she locked her door or if she made it to the elevator.

The large hand with the drug-soaked cloth was vivid in her mind, giving her palpitations now just recalling it. Pepper remembered hearing the male voice of her attacker, but not seeing him. She couldn't remember what he said, but something had struck her as even more out-of-place than being assaulted. The words didn't make sense or he spoke in riddles or something. She remembered the abject fear, the utter helplessness, and the impending doom just before everything went black.

Now she was lying on something cold and hard—concrete or possibly metal. It was difficult to be sure in her stiff and bound state, but despite how cold she was, she was pretty sure she still had all her clothes on. It was really only her calves below her skirt and the very tiny bit of exposed cheek between the blindfold and the tape that was in contact with the surface, but that surface was numbingly cold and sucking the heat from her entire body, even through all the layers of her business suit, sweater, and overcoat.

As she analyzed this, she became aware the surface was also vibrating, but not bumpy enough to be a truck or van. The pitch of the vibrations seemed more like an airplane. But where was it going, Antarctica?_ Calm down, _she scolded herself_. It's probably only 40 degrees and not minus 70, like it feels._ If she had been raised in New York, it wouldn't even be cold. _Stupid weather wimp_.

It was the cold, however, that convinced her to stop feigning unconsciousness. She couldn't warm up on her own and she had to risk that whoever kidnapped her would not want her dying of hypothermia, so she started shifting around, moving the coldest body parts away from the floor.

If her attackers had wanted to sexually assault her, they could have done it before now. She wouldn't still have all her clothes if that had been the case. Odds were, this was someone who'd made the connection between her and Tony Stark and they were going to use her to make him pay ransom.

Pepper knew Tony would pay it. People thought he was heartless, but she knew better. No one but she and Rhodey knew about his trip to Gulmira, so people didn't know he'd rescued all those poor villagers, not to save the American military from bad press or whatever stupid story the media put out. Yes, it probably had something to do with the fact the doctor who'd saved his life had called Gulmira home once, but from what Pepper had been able to gather, Yinson and his entire family were dead, and Tony knew it.

No, Tony Stark rescued the helpless and the innocent because he _cared_. He tried to pretend otherwise, tried to portray himself to the masses as part angel of death and part party animal, but it was all an elaborate hoax to hide the truly noble human being he'd become since Afghanistan.

And now Pepper understood why. Because this is what happened when people found out he cared. They exploited him. Yes, she was the one freezing her booty off right now. She was the one bound and aching all over, but it hurt just as much, if not more, to know that someone did all this just to stab _him_ where he was most vulnerable. It pissed her off to the core that all this was all about something as stupid and petty as money. Even as crappy as she felt right now, she wished there was some way she could fight, something she could do to oppose the scum who were doing this.

Grunting with effort, she managed to turn from her side to her back, so her head now rested on her hair, which provided more insulation against the freezing floor than her bare cheek. However, lying on her bound arms became immediately too uncomfortable, so she had to return her body to the side position. She settled on the left side this time, so her right leg might get a chance to thaw out a little. For about the twentieth time, she cursed her choice of wearing a skirt that morning.

She heard and felt footsteps, which confirmed the floor was metal and not concrete. Tension filled her, but she tried to swallow it down. They wouldn't want her dead until _after_ they had Tony's money. She hoped whoever was approaching would be taking off the tape gag, at least. They'd want her to talk to Tony and tell him she was all right. Like hell she would. She would bite the hand that freed her lips and tell Tony she quit. Again. _He _would know that only meant she was feeling frustrated and fed up, but she wasn't hurt or broken. She hoped that would scare her attackers into worrying that she might not be as valuable a hostage as they thought.

Yes, that was dangerous, but chances were, they were going to kill her anyway and she'd be damned if she let them manipulate Tony just to gain a few days tied up and freezing. If she was going to die, then it may as well be sooner than later.

A door creaked. In the darkness, she imagined an airplane hatch opening, but it could have just been rusty hinges coupled with her previous assumption. She didn't hear any switch, but even through the blindfold, bright light flooded her eyes.

Two steps.

"Well, well, well. How does it feel to have the tables turned, missy?"

_Justin Hammer_. That was the voice she couldn't place before. He was supposed to be in prison for twelve years. How in the world did he get out? Worse, why hadn't she _known_ about it? As much as the media had played up the trial, surely, news of early parole or a pardon would have been all over the airwaves, wouldn't it?

Realization was both relieving and terrifying. A relief because the man was chronically incompetent at everything but stealing other people's ideas. If he was the mastermind behind this kidnapping, she had nothing to worry about. But it was also terrifying because he was obsessed to the point of obsurdity and he had no moral compass—at all.

He broke that crazy Russian out of a prison in Monaco and didn't care how many people died in the riots that followed. He gave a maniac access to all his weapons development with no thought to what Vanko's obvious bent toward vengeance might cause. Even after the fact, when it was apparent this psychopath was out for blood and destruction on innocent people, Hammer was only concerned about himself and his stupid presentation.

Pepper didn't even try to grunt an answer at him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"How does it feel to be all locked up, to be a prisoner?" Hammer taunted. "That's what _you_ did to _me_."

_Riiight. All_ my _fault_. It was a wonder his lawyers hadn't tried the 'mentally incompetent to stand trial' defense.

His last step was close; he had to be standing right over her now. "Be a good girl this time, and I might let you live."

Pepper wished she had asked Natalie—er—Agent Romanoff to show her how to do that tackle move she did on Happy, because Pepper really would have loved to pull it on Hammer right now. Insane and incompetent, but also a class A, condescending creep. Alas, it didn't matter, since she was tied up anyway.

"Listen, we're going to make a little recording for your boyfriend. You tell Anthony to give me what I want and I'll let you go. Don't mess with me, sweetheart. I'm not fooling around anymore."

_So that's what the Expo was—fooling around. Were all his DoD contracts 'fooling around' too?_ She could hardly wait for him to take the tape off her mouth so she could spit in his face.

"Are you rolling?" Hammer asked. It sounded like his head was turned in the direction from which he entered.

"Yeah," some other male voice said.

Hammer's voice got all theatrical and sappy. "Aww, I see you're awake. Here, honey, let me take that nasty tape off your mouth." He stepped on her hair, effectively preventing any possibility of lunging or even directing her face so she could aim her spittle properly. Still, when the sting of a hundred band-aids spread over her entire lips and jaw area, she spit blindly, hoping to catch his hand or anything she could. She couldn't see if she hit anything, but Hammer said, "Hey!" in that whiney tone of his, right before a loud slap and her cheek erupted in burning that eclipsed the tape-rip. She suspected both pains would have been worse if her face wasn't so numb from cold.

"Listen, you feisty little bitch," Hammer said in a tone that was clearly meant to rile Tony, "don't give us any trouble, or you may get hurt."

Yeah, like drugging her, tying her up with zip-ties, freezing her to death, and smacking her around when she was utterly defenseless was not in the category of 'hurt'. If ever there was a scorching glare capable of melting a blindfold, she was directing it now toward where his voice came from.

She opened her mouth to call him a name she'd once heard in a rather sleazy bar where she'd found Tony on one of his binges six years ago. Hammer precluded speech by squeezing her face with his fingers and thumb, hurting her already stinging cheeks and making her pucker. It was an act designed to humiliate her and demonstrate his power. Pepper somehow managed to break free of his wrenching grasp and chomp blindly at the air. To her great satisfaction, her teeth connected with some part of his hand. However, he pulled away quickly and she couldn't cause as much damage as she would have liked.

"Ow! Damn it!"

Pepper braced for the backlash, but it didn't happen. While Hammer was busy ow-ow-owing and swearing under his breath, she blurted out her message to the unseen videographer: "I quit, Mr. Stark. Do you hear me? I'm not your CEO anymore. You're not responsible for me. Don't give this slimy little creep anything!"

Someone kicked her forcefully in the gut. Pain—sharp, deep, and excruciating—radiated through her whole torso. Frankly, had she known he would kick her and not just slap her numbed face again, she wouldn't have said it. She drew her knees up toward her chest and yanked again on her bound wrists and ankles. She tried to hold back tears, but the dam was busted and there was nothing for it. Whimpering sobs escaped her lips despite all attempts to stifle them.

"Cut it, Mac," Hammer ordered someone who stood behind him. "We'll just edit that out." Then his voice got close again. "You think you hurt me, Missy? You think I won't hurt you back because you're a woman? You'd better hope Stark _does_ take responsibility for you, or you're dead. I've got nothing to lose and I am sick of you and your crap."

Pepper couldn't reply if she wanted to. She couldn't stop her sobbing enough to form words.

Hammer and "Mac" walked away and the freezing room plunged back into darkness just before the metallic slam of the door resounded through her bones, ringing out in its harsh finality.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Tony hated waiting. No doubt, Hammer was purposely making him wait just to torture him.

Pepper's apartment door was fixed promptly, just as Security George promised. Tony already had a key, so after the police cleared the apartment as not part of the crime scene, he set up a makeshift command center in her living room. JARVIS had instructions to pick up any call from a unregistered phone as well as any openly from Hammer. Hammer would want to rub Tony's nose in this at some point, but he'd worn that mask, so he might try to hide for a while. Tony only hoped the idiot didn't try to use Pepper's phone to contact him, because the cops had confiscated it as "evidence". _Yeah right_. The only fingerprints it had were Pepper's, Happy's, and his. Anyone who saw the security tape would know the kidnappers didn't touch it.

They probably thought there was something in her phone records. If Tony hadn't already downloaded all that information hours ago, he might have protested, but he knew the only thing to be found was the fact _he_ didn't call her as much as he should. That was a minor point of shame for him personally, but if the FBI didn't follow all the gossip rags, they wouldn't realize she was more to him than just the CEO of his company. The phone thing wasn't criminal or even mildly embarrassing, considering the mountain of other dirt the media had made public over the years.

Something in the back of his mind kept telling him he would need the Mark VI, but he couldn't bring himself to go home to Malibu to work on it. Deshpande lived in New York. Hammer had lived in New York even before taking up residence in Club Fed. And Pepper was kidnapped in New York. Hammer no longer owned an airplane. Tony had checked and double-checked to make sure of that. Deshpande didn't have a plane, or the means to buy one. Therefore, the chances were very good they were holding Pepper somewhere close.

If he traced the ransom call and pinpointed Pepper's location in this area, but he was in Malibu when the call occurred, he would never forgive himself if the distance diminished her chances of rescue. Minutes dragged into hours, but every time he got tempted again, it felt like Hammer's call would be "any minute now" and he just didn't dare.

JARVIS had the same functionality from inside the Mark V suitcase as he would have back at the house in Malibu, except he had to limit the size and scope of holographic projections he could display at any one time. Tony found it irritating not to be able to see all the parts of the puzzle simultaneously, especially when he wasn't even sure what pieces belonged to the picture he was working on, but he held his irritation in check. He wasn't going to risk Pepper's life or safety for a better data display. If space was that important, he could go rent the whole darned Waldorf Astoria. He felt closer to Pepper at her place, so her apartment served as his base of operations.

After several frustrating hours studying Deshpande's incredibly boring legal career, he had to get out. Down in the security office again, George shared all the footage he'd gathered from the whole building, but all they saw were a couple more glimpses of Pepper's unconscious body being carried by a guy in a ski mask and Hammer wearing a wig—no vehicle, no other suspects.

Tony hit up Happy next. The big guy needed to be filled in about Hammer and Tony needed a driver to take him to the theater district. New York had terrible parking conditions, so having someone to keep the engine running or circling the block was helpful. Happy took him all up and down Broadway and "off-Broadway" to talk to every make-up artist he could find, flashing pictures of both masks and asking if anyone knew anything. He found at least twelve guys who _could have_ made them, but not a single one seemed to have any motive, much less the time. Regardless, no one had anything helpful to offer.

A few hours after most people had eaten dinner, Tony directed Happy to stop for pizza, which they took back to the apartment high rise.

"Here, you take this," Tony said as they got out in the parking garage. "I'm not hungry."

Happy shook his head. "I can't eat. My stomach's in knots."

"Mine too."

"Why'd you get it then?"

Tony shrugged. "Habit." He grabbed the box. Maybe he'd want some later. He had a feeling this was going to be a very long night. They walked in silence.

"You need anything else?" Happy asked at the elevator. His voice was small, dejected.

"Yeah, I need Justin Hammer's head on a pike."

Happy nodded, uncheered by his lame attempt at levity. "Just get her back."

Tony laid his free hand on Happy's shoulder. "I will."

"I'm going home then. You call me if you get that call. I don't care what time it is."

"If I get a fix on her, I'll be flying out in the Mark V. Nothing you need to do."

"I need to know you found her."

"Fair enough." He thrust the pizza box out. "Sure you don't want any?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Happy pressed the button for the sixteenth floor and then the eighteenth for Tony.

They said nothing on the elevator ride. There was no point telling Happy this wasn't his fault. He was going to think it anyway. Tony wanted to tell him Hammer wouldn't dare hurt Pepper, but he wasn't convinced himself and Happy was one of the few people he didn't like to lie to.

The deflated bodyguard got off at the sixteenth floor and they both merely nodded in farewell.

Tony unlocked Pepper's door, deposited the untouched pizza in her refrigerator, and flung himself on the couch. "JARVIS, you got anything new?"

"Six hundred seventeen megabytes of information on Deshpande and Brennan, all the way back to Kindergarten, as you requested, sir. Where would you like to start?"

"Reverse chronological." He hoped with all his might he'd find a clue before he had to drudge through juvenile delinquency. Tony was about as far from goody-two-shoes as one could get, but at least his discrepancies were fun.

One screen of text after another, he sifted the information and then swiped at the holographic display to "turn the page". It was mind-numbingly boring, but he couldn't just shut it off and do nothing. Yet again, he considered a quick trip to California for the Mark VI. It would only be a little over three hours round trip. Working on his armor would be infinitely more interesting and occupy his hands better, but was that what Pepper really needed from him?

He had the Mark V and it was more than capable of dealing with Hammer or anything he could cobble together, short of bringing Vanko back from the dead to help him. Tony had no idea where Pepper was. She needed him to _find_ her, not to fix his backup suit.

_Why didn't Hammer just __**CALL**__, dammit? _Why was he playing all coy?He should be on the phone, playing Mr. Swaggering Bigshot:_ Ha, ha, I got your girl. I win. Give me twenty million in Kruggerands and I'll give her back. _Tony would pay and then Hammer would dump Pepper and run off to retire in some third world...

Something clicked.

"JARVIS, go back to the list of Deshpande's business associates." His law clients had been pitifully unambitious in nature, but he had dabbled in investments here and there. Nothing had profited nearly as well as Stark Industries stock, but he did well enough that he didn't have to take on big, important law cases. Maybe he was one of those people who never really wanted to be a lawyer, but used a law degree as a stepping stone to politics or some other goal.

The list of names and corporations felt like an old-fashioned phone book. Names with no faces, no notations that would indicate good or bad, just a meaningless list. A few were in red, meaning the person was now deceased, but that was the only real information. But _something_ was here, something his subconscious mind knew intuitively, but wasn't sharing with his conscious.

"What am I missing here, J? Why is this list screaming for my attention?"

"Sir, perhaps it is suggesting you should get some sleep. You have been up for—"

"I know. That's not it. There's something here." Tony stood and started pacing. "Close all other pages and magnify this one," he instructed, pointing at the holographic projection of the name list. "How many names?"

"Fifty-six."

"Do they have anything in common?"

JARVIS paused for a second, which, in computer terms, was like a million calculations. The holographic display morphed into a ridiculously complex graphic with flow-chart-like connections criss-crossing all over it. Most of the lines were dashed, indicating they didn't even have money pass between them, just common suppliers or common customers. Okay, so everyone in the whole business world was connected to everyone else. Wait, maybe that was it.

"JARVIS, cross reference with Stark Industries. Are any of these people connected to Pepper or me?"

The holographic display changed again, not quite as convoluted this time, and not as much data, but all reported "relationships" were innocuous. SI supplied software to the same company as one of Deshpande's investors bought paper from. Nothing shock worthy.

"Sir, I think you should see this."

"What, JARVIS?"

"The database still contains all under-the-table records from Obadiah Stane," the AI reported even as the visual projection changed again, this time showing five names in common between Stane and Deshpande, but those five names all had direct lines—solid, huge cash-changing-hands lines—to one red-lettered name: Raza.

Tony felt all the blood drain from his face. "Get me Colonel Rhodes."

"Sir, it's 1 AM at Edwards, where the colonel is currently stationed."

"He's military. He's not allowed to turn off his phone."

The ring indicator sounded twice. "Rhodes." Tony couldn't detect irritation or any sleepy befuddlement, but he didn't sound 100% awake either.

"Sorry about the time, buddy, but I gotta talk to you."

"Tony?"

"Yeah. Pepper's been kidnapped. Justin Hammer did it. He broke out of prison with the help of some guys connected to Raza."

"That Afghani psychopath who kidnapped _you_? Are you sure?"

"I just saw the connections in Obie's old records. How sure are we that Raza's dead?"

"Why are you asking me? I thought you flew over and saw for yourself."

"I did, but the remains were charred beyond recognition. I thought the army was gonna check the DNA."

A short pause. "There was some resistance with the locals."

"Resistance? The guy's a major terrorist and nobody thought it was important to make sure he was dead?"

"Stane wouldn't have let him live. He was a liability. Witnesses saw Stane use that paralyzer thing of his. Raza didn't stand a chance."

There was no time to debate this and no time for regrets. "Well, dead or alive, it really doesn't matter. It looks like his Ten Rings buddies are still quite active."

"That's not good."

_No kidding_. Tony didn't say it aloud. It was 1AM and Rhodey wasn't a night owl. "Why do you think they busted Hammer out of prison?"

"They think he can get them weapons."

"Can he?" Tony really hadn't dug into Hammer's post-arrest data beyond making sure he didn't have a house where he could be holding Pepper or a plane to get her very far away. The news said Hammer Industries was liquidated and Hammer was broke, but Tony knew better than to trust the media.

"I don't see how," Rhodey said. "Senator Stern went on a shopping spree when his surplus went up for auction. There's nothing left in Hammer's factories."

"They think he can make it himself, like I did, when I was their prisoner." It took considerable control not to laugh at this notion. About the only thing Hammer was good for was bullets. Anything more sophisticated was bound to be a flop. But now he understood why Hammer didn't just flee the country. He was being pressured just like Tony had been in that cave.

But instead of working against them, like Tony did, Hammer was cooperating. Tony would bet Hammer didn't feel an ounce of guilt over it either. Why would he? Ten Rings gave him the means to get out of jail, get revenge on his most-hated enemy, and get back in the arms business, just selling to a different customer. Hammer had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

"If he makes them stuff like that Ex-Wife Missile of his, he'll be dead in no time," Rhodey said with a chuckle in his voice.

"Yeah, but they didn't take Pepper for nothing. They want my money or my armor."

"Probably both."

"How about you drive out to my house, pick up War Machine and the damaged Mark VI and fly an X-99 or something out here for a little party."

"X-99? What's that?"

"Oh don't play top secret games with me. How long was I in weapons development?"

There was a pause, probably Rhodey deciding how far to argue in order to keep a military secret Tony already knew about. Short of taking a space shuttle out of mothballs, the X-99 was the fastest thing the Air Force had. Tony only guessed that Rhodey was cleared to fly it. He was one of their top pilots. He also wasn't sure they had one parked in a hangar at Edwards, but surely they had something fast he could use.

"Look, Tony, the last time I 'partied' with you in New York, a lot of people got hurt."

"No Ivan Vanko this time. War Machine is ready to go. I fixed her all up for you."

Silence again.

"Come on, sidekick. I need you."

"Let me see what I can do. Don't do anything without me."

"No promises. Get here fast."

Tony felt both better and worse after he hung up. If he'd been worried about Pepper being under Hammer's control, he was doubly worried about Ten Rings being involved. Those guys didn't mess around. The only reason Tony hadn't ended up dead was because he built the armor and because Yinson sacrificed himself so Tony could get away. Pepper would have neither of those advantages.

_Where the hell are they holding her and why haven't they called yet?_

* * *

**_A/N: Marvel's wiki says that Raza "apparently" died in the first Iron Man movie. I think his death was likely. But we know Ten Rings was still active all the way through IM3, so it's no stretch to think there were other members lurking around. I do not plan to use Raza specifically, so whether he is alive or not is still up to Marvel._**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Hammer was pleased with the video he got out of Potts. Of course, he didn't plan on getting his finger bitten, but that gave him plenty of justification to kick the bitch, and that felt quite gratifying. Women got way too many allowances in the corporate world and it felt great to finally be able to remove the kid gloves and treat her like an equal. Once he had the raw footage, it was no problem to just edit out the bad parts.

But he had no intention of calling Mr. Prom King Rock Star so he could whine about not talking to her live. Oh, no. Hammer was in charge this time and he wasn't planning on giving any ground to his metal britches rival. No call meant no trace. Besides, there wasn't a cell tower within miles of here.

He recorded his own message to Stark from his webcam, added the edited video from his little exchange with Potts, and put it all on a mass-produced USB jumpdrive. The jumpdrive was sealed up in a padded Overnight Express flat rate envelope (postage already paid, in cash, a month ago, according to Amar). Hammer addressed it to Anthony Edward Stark, care of Stark Industries' New York executive offices. If he wasn't already in New York, someone would call him. He only put "Hammer Industries" in the return address, not wanting to spoil the surprise too soon. He grinned at his handiwork and peeled the wrapper off a new cherry Tootsie Pop to celebrate.

In addition to that convenient platinum credit card he'd supplied, Amar had hired some muscle dudes, gunmen, and various other mercenaries—gophers, drivers, lookouts, and such. Hammer liked having goons again. He was the brains, but when it came to petty stuff, he had "people" for that. He summoned one of the gopher-goons.

Hammer held the envelope back as he studied the guy. He didn't care about his own fingerprints. Stark was going to know it was him anyway, but he didn't want any of his goons traced. There was no telling where Amar dug them up. "Put some gloves on first—winter or work ones, nothing that'll make you stand out." Normal people didn't walk around with rubber gloves on.

The gopher pulled some driving gloves from a jacket pocket and put them on.

Hammer extended the envelope. "Take it to Queens and find an Express mailbox and drop it in. It's just a jumpdrive, not Anthrax or ammo or anything illegal. No need to hide or act paranoid. You're just mailing an envelope. Be casual."

The guy nodded and took the package. Surely any idiot could do this, couldn't he?

"No big hurry either. Watch the speed limits," Hammer warned to his back.

Another nod from Gopher Goon, who didn't even look back.

Hammer took a few minutes to savor the glorious cherry sweetness in his mouth that matched the sweetness of his mood. He was safe here, in the Villa. He held the trump card and Stark was finally going to be taken down a few pegs. Life was good.

"I ain't gonna deal with that bitch if you let her shit her pants," some muscle dude said as he approached from the direction of Potts' holding cell. "She smells bad enough after pissing herself."

Much as Hammer relished her tied up, helpless, and as uncomfortable as possible, the goon had a point. There was a toilet in the room, but she couldn't use it as she was. Reluctantly, he said, "We got what we needed. Go ahead and untie her."

Muscle Goon mumbled something about opening his big fat mouth and risking rabies.

Hammer pretended he didn't catch it. He was tempted to go watch, but he was slightly nervous Potts would break loose and knee someone in the nuts or something. Sure, Muscle Dude could eventually subdue her, but Hammer had already been bitten once. No need to go risk his nuts too.

Instead, he wandered to the kitchen to see what was for dinner. The cook Amar hired, a guy named Mel, wasn't anywhere near the culinary artist Hammer had once had as his personal chef, but since anything was better than prison food, this hash-slinger wasn't so bad.

"What's on the menu?" Hammer asked.

"Chili and cornbread," Mel stated flatly.

Not Hammer's favorite, but it smelled homemade and fresh, and still zillions of times better than anything he'd eaten at Club Fed.

"Do we have cheese?"

"Just cheddar," the guy said.

Not so long ago, Hammer would have turned his snobby nose up at that. He could eat a hundred dollars worth of fine imported cheeses with his aperitif and not give it a second thought, but this was not that life. "Mmm. Sounds great, Mel," he said sincerely.

He grabbed a bottle of Pepsi from the fridge and twisted off the cap. After removing the lolly from his mouth, he tipped the bottle back and guzzled the sweet nectar of life with total abandon. Carbonation burned a little still, but he was starting to get re-acclimated to all the things he'd missed.

Some of those things still had to wait, but Hammer had a lot more patience now that he was out of the hellhole. Like the ransom demand—a call would have been fifty times faster, but it meant giving up too many advantages. Besides, it had to drive Stark, the King of Impulse, crazy to be kept waiting. The delay represented only a minor inconvenience to Hammer as long as he was comfortable and safe here in the Villa.

He set the Pepsi down and returned the lolly to the corner of his mouth. _Ah, the delicious sugar rush_.

Muscle Goon came out of Potts' holding cell holding what looked like bloody panties. Hammer didn't give a damn if the guy had raped her while she was still tied up. How many times had he had to endure rape over the past months? All of that was _her_ fault. She was just a means to an end now. Since she'd done her part for the ransom recording, she was almost (but not quite) expendable. But unless Muscle Dude retaped her mouth, it could have been a rather dangerous proposition. Hammer couldn't decide if he was envious or not. She was such a bitch and not even that pretty.

"I didn't do this," Muscle Dude said in response to the stare. "She took 'em off herself 'cuz the piss made 'em wet and she was cold. Kinda freaked when she saw the blood though."

"She's just trying to make you feel sorry for her. Women bleed like that every month."

He held a dry corner of the underwear by the smallest bit of thumb and forefinger he could manage. "What do they do with these then?"

"Chuck 'em," Hammer said. What did Potts think this was, her personal Chinese laundry? She had better not complain when she took the nasty little rag off herself.

"Can I give her a blanket? I think she really is cold. Her lips were turning blue and shit."

Hammer waved indifferently. "I don't care."

"How about water?"

It really wouldn't do to have her die of thirst, at least not before Amar's friends had what they wanted. "Yeah, whatever."

"Food?"

She didn't deserve it. She should have to suffer, like he did. "If there's any cornbread left after all of _us_ eat, she can have that. Nothing else." How poetic was it to feed her bread (of a sort) and water? Damn, that was almost as good as his 'they're about to run out of ink' line he'd thought up for the Expo. _He_ was the genius this time and nothing was going to stop him. _He_ was going to win.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Tony was bleary-eyed from studying all the data on Amar's mutual connections with the "probably" deceased Raza. He was exhausted both mentally and physically, but even when he gave himself permission to sleep, he couldn't do it. Why didn't this mountain of information lead him to Pepper? Why was there no ransom demand? If Hammer didn't want anything from him, then why had he kidnapped Pepper at all? That was the question that wouldn't let him sleep. _He_ was Tony Stark. _He_ was Iron Man. He had been absolutely convinced this was all about _him_ but his certitude was wavering. Never before had he wished so hard that he wasn't so damned intelligent. Someone with a lesser mind could overlook disturbing facts and be content with delusions.

His cell rang, sending his heart-rate into the stratosphere. However, the ID said it was NYPD. Tony couldn't think of any reason Hammer would relay a ransom call through the police. Didn't kidnappers usually tell their victims to keep the police out of the loop?

He lifted the phone to his ear. "Stark."

"Mr. Stark, this is Officer Jacobs. We met yesterday. Have you heard anything from Miss Potts or her apparent attackers?"

_Apparent?_ Somebody grabbed her from behind, knocked her out, and then dragged her unconscious body away. What part of that was ambiguous? He was too tired to argue over poor word choices. "No, but I'm pretty sure that _apparent_ _attacker_ in the security footage was Justin Hammer wearing a mask and wig." News about Hammer not being in Club Fed should have been released by now. Besides, the cops couldn't do any worse than he was doing on finding Pepper, so why not give them a hand?

"The idiot who terrorized the Expo? I thought he got sent up for 12 years."

Tony suppressed a sigh. They _could_ do worse than he was doing. "Someone broke him out. Maybe you can go talk to the guy who took his place." He didn't mention he had already tried that over 20 hours ago. He had sort of been withholding evidence, although he didn't feel too badly about it when they seemed to be incapable of handling a clue when they had one.

"I'll have someone get on that. You let us know if you hear anything."

"Yeah." _Maybe. Eventually_. Like after he'd made the ransom drop and rescued her. He hit the disconnect. If he didn't have a computerized phone system managed by JARVIS, he would have been miffed that the NYPD tied up his line for such trivia.

A knock sounded on Pepper's door.

"Who is it?" Tony called. If it was more cops, he planned to tell them he was stepping into the shower.

"It's me," Happy's voice said.

"It's unlocked."

The door opened and Happy's face appeared. "You really shouldn't do that in New York."

"What?"

"Leave the door unlocked overnight."

_What idiot would try to break in on Iron Man?_ He produced a weak smile. "Just didn't want you busting the new one."

"Ha, ha." Happy looked like he hadn't slept much either. "Anything?" he asked with a tone of desperation.

Tony decided not to tell him about the Ten Rings connection. It would only worry him more and he didn't need that, especially when it wasn't helping them find Pepper. He threw his hands in the air. "Not a thing."

A sigh and a nod. "Can I get you breakfast or anything?"

Tony's stomach still felt tied in knots, but unfortunately, the arc reactor in his chest didn't power anything biological. "Yeah, espresso—lots of it, and donuts. You know what I like."

"No, I know where to drive and where to park. _Pepper_ knows what you like."

Why did that statement sting so much? Tony opened his mouth to rattle off his preferences, but Happy wasn't Pepper. He didn't have her incredible memory and this kind of thing had never been part of his job. Hell, he didn't even work for Tony anymore. This was a favor. Tony amended his intentions before it became obvious he'd planned otherwise. "Doesn't matter. Get whatever."

"Sorry, that was—"

"No, it's fine. I miss her too."

"You should tell her that."

A flood of emotions prevented his usual snappy comeback.

"When you find her," Happy added in the gap.

"I will."

The big guy turned and left, the door snicking shut behind him.

Another ringtone sounded. Tony didn't let himself get excited before he glanced at the display. Caller ID said it was Pepper's secretary, Bambi. She would still be operating under the assumption Pepper was sick. Tony didn't want to deal with her. "Transfer to voicemail, JARVIS."

The ringtone stopped immediately. Tony stood and stretched, then took a quick trip to the bathroom. Upon re-entry to the living room, JARVIS said, "Sir, you might want to listen to Miss Arbogast's message."

Tony quirked a brow. "You think so? Okay, play it."

A static picture of the woman appeared on holographic display along with all her pertinent personal data, but the message was voice-only. "Mr. Stark? It's Bambi. Sorry to bother you on the weekend. A package arrived here for you. Return address says 'Hammer Industries' but I thought they were out of business. Do you want me to forward it to you in Los Angeles? I'll forward it unless I hear from you by Monday."

"Call her back."

"Connecting to her extension now, sir."

It only rang once. "Virginia Potts' office, how may I help you?"

"Bambi, it's me. Where's that package? I need it."

"I've got it right here."

Blowing up the New York branch of Stark Industries might give Hammer a sick satisfaction. Better be safe. "Leave it on Pepper's desk and evacuate the building. Use drill protocol so the fire department doesn't show up. I'll be there in less than five."

"Why, what is it? Shouldn't I notify Miss Potts first?"

"She's been kidnapped. Hammer busted out of jail. Now, don't panic, but the package could be dangerous, so just do it, all right?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark. Evacuation drill. But there's hardly anyone here. It's Saturday."

Tony didn't waste any more time talking. He hit disconnect. "Armoring sequence, JARVIS."

The holographic display vanished and the suitcase offered the initial boot. Tony slipped his bare foot inside and reached down to grab the gauntlets. The Mark V armor formed around him. He walked as fast as the armor allowed up to the roof. He arrived at the office complex in three minutes, twenty-seven seconds. A handful of SI employees stood out on the lawn and pointed when he swooped to land at the front entrance. He didn't visit the New York office much, especially since the Expo ended, but even when he did, it was in a business suit, not his armor, so Iron Man was still a bit of a novelty for them.

He hurried through the building to Pepper's office and found the padded envelope. He left it on the desk and said, "Scan contents, JARVIS."

The HUD showed radioactive readouts, biotoxic and chemical analysis, infrared scans and finally an x-ray which showed it was a thumb drive.

"All scans appear normal, sir. It appears to be a SanDisk USB drive, Cruzer model. Current sales figures indicate over seventeen million units in use."

_Dammit._ That bastard was smarter than Tony thought. No call to trace and the thumb drive was mass-produced. He tore open the envelope and removed the drive. "Give me the USB slot."

The armor shrank off his skin, but it didn't completely become a suitcase. Tony slipped the drive into the receptacle. "Copy that and start to analyze. I'm going to wrap up here, then I'll suit back up."

"Yes, sir. Analyzing now." The thumb drive disappeared as the suit morphed into its case form.

Tony was barefoot, but he could move faster without the armor. He stuffed the torn envelope under his sweatshirt, grabbed the suitcase Mark V, and walked out to the lawn, where about 30 SI employees waited impatiently. "All clear," he announced to the group. "Sorry to disrupt everyone's work. See Miss Arbogast to get validated for a three-hour bonus on your next paycheck." He turned to Bambi. "I'll cover it. Make sure you give yourself one too."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. Was it about Miss Potts? The package, I mean."

"Yep. Pretty sure. Analyzing it now."

She nodded and turned to follow the others back inside.

Tony set the suitcase in front of him on the wet grass. "My feet are cold, J. Open up." In seconds, he was inside his second skin and igniting the thrusters.

"Would you like me to play the message now, sir?" JARVIS asked.

He was aching to hear it, but he wouldn't want to stop in the middle and he didn't have far to go. "How long is it?"

"Hammer speaks for two minutes, thirteen seconds, followed by twenty-two seconds of footage with Miss Potts, and then another eighty-seven seconds of Hammer."

Tony's heart sank a little more. He'd wanted to talk to her so badly. Now he not only wasn't going to get the opportunity, but she was only afforded 22 seconds to speak to him.

Anxious though he was, he wanted to give this his full attention. "Let's wait until we're back in the apartment. New York doesn't need another 9-11." Not that his one-man suit was capable of bringing down a skyscraper or that JARVIS couldn't handle auto-pilot while playing a recording. It was a lame attempt at levity.

"Your wit knows no end, sir."

He smiled despite himself. The very short flight back to Park Avenue seemed to take forever, but he tried to tell himself this was good. There would be clues. He would find her.

Back in Pepper's apartment, he snatched up his socks and set the Mark V down in the living room. JARVIS prudently said nothing as Tony sat, took several deep breaths, and mentally braced himself. "Okay, J, play it."

The video file played on a holographic screen at Tony's eye level. Hammer looked just like the mask he'd seen on Brennan, except that the black eye and bandaged cut looked like they'd had several more days of healing. Tony had never liked the idiot, but now that Hammer was smirking back with that sickly smug grin on his face, Tony felt the hatred swell in his chest like a water balloon about to burst.

"You thought it would be fun to ruin my life, didn't you? You got the whole damned world to blame _me_ for what that crazy Russian did and then you laughed when I took the heat for it. Don't think I don't remember, Anthony. Don't think I didn't suffer every single day I was locked up like an animal—humiliated, abused, and fed slop not even fit for pigs."

The slimball shook a bandaged index finger and it blurred from proximity to the camera. "You had your day in the sun. You were everybody's favorite Golden Boy. Now it's_ my_ turn. You're going to listen to me and you're going to do everything I say. Then maybe—just maybe—if you beg me real nice, I'll let that girl friday whore of yours go on living."

Hammer tented his fingers together in a patently fake pose reminiscent of some James Bond villain from the 80s. "Then again, that bitch hurt me real bad and I'm a fugitive, living on the lam. I've got nothing to lose, so if you screw me over again, she ends up at the bottom of the Atlantic, followed shortly by you."

Hammer's lips curled into a semblance of a smile or another smirk; it was hard to tell which. He stared as if his silence meant something profound, like he was daring Tony to look in his eyes and read the sincerity with which he made his threats. Tony had no doubt whatsoever that Hammer was dead serious. He wasn't sure the man would murder Pepper with his own two hands, but he would order some hired thug to do it without the hesitation or remorse.

"I'm going to let you see her—just a short peek to prove she's still alive, for now. If you want to keep her that way, then you'd better do exactly what I tell you at the end."

The scene switched abruptly. The lighting was different and the camera was no longer stationary. It looked like someone recording with a phone. The new room was dark and windowless. Lying helpless on the floor, Pepper was bound with her hands behind her back and her legs together, a blindfold over her eyes and white tape across her mouth. He recognized her by the overcoat she wore and the strawberry blonde hair which spilled both over and under the blindfold. Tony clenched his fists unconsciously. The microphone used for this shot was not as good as the one Hammer had used for his little monologue, but he could pick up most of the sounds.

"Are you rolling?" Hammer's back was turned, but he stood towering over Pepper, accentuating her vulnerability. Tony's fists tightened enough to send his fingernails into his palms.

"Yeah," came the reply from the cameraman.

Hammer leaned over and said something to her with a voice like saccharine, but it wasn't loud and his back was turned, so Tony didn't catch it all. The camera guy repositioned so the next words were clearer.

"Here, honey, let me take that nasty tape off your mouth." Hammer stepped on her hair and yanked the tape off.

Tony couldn't help but wince, squeezing his eyes shut. Pepper didn't cry out. Instead, she tried to spit on him! Tony whooped, but his celebration was cut short when Hammer hauled off and smacked her, sending her reeling on the floor.

Tony's jaw clenched as tight as his fists, he growled through his teeth, "Why you little..."

"Sir," JARVIS's voice interrupted as the picture froze, "I am reading abnormally high blood pressure and heartbeat. Should I pause to give you time to recover?"

"No, JARVIS. Resume."

"Listen, you feisty little bitch," Hammer sneered, looking more at the camera than at Pepper, "don't give us any trouble, or you may get hurt." He then reached out and squeezed her cheeks together hard, distorting her lips in a way that had to hurt. The camera zoomed in on her forced pucker and then the picture cut off.

There were several seconds of electronic snow before the picture returned to the first format, with Hammer seated in front of him, like he was using a webcam. Tony tried to concentrate on what was happening, but all he could think about was that Pepper hadn't been allowed to say anything. Was it possible she was already dead and this was an imposter wearing her coat and another wig?

Hammer's self-important voice intruded on his thoughts. "You will bring the suitcase armor to Central Park North. There's a hot dog stand run by a guy who wears an orange chef hat. Twenty-nine paces east of the hot dog stand, behind a big maple tree, is a wastebasket. Drop the suitcase in the wastebasket and leave the area. The sooner you do this, the sooner we can talk about what happens next."

Hammer looked left and right, and then leaned in with an air of secrecy. His voice lowered to a confidential tone. "Personally, Anthony, I don't want your damned suit anymore. I got to work on the War Machine and frankly, I wasn't impressed. But the people who busted me out of that hellhole asked for this in return. I have to get them off my back before you and I can settle the score. Don't mess with them, Stark. They'll kill your precious Pepper if you try anything, so don't."

The screen went black.

"Would you like my analysis now, sir?" JARVIS asked.

"I think I need that blood pressure break first, J. Give me a couple minutes."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Tony sat, stunned and disappointed, catching his breath. There was no appointed time he had to make the drop, nor any stated deadline. Presumably, that meant he could do it any time he wanted. However, it was likely he was being watched. He didn't try to hide when he flew over to SI to pick up the thumb drive. They knew when he got the message and if he didn't act soon, there would undoubtedly be consequences. Hammer didn't even promise to give Pepper back if he gave them the Mark V. It sounded like this was just first on the list of things Hammer wanted from him. _Do this and_ **maybe**_ I'll let her live. My friends want this first _**before**_ we can move on to settling the score_.

Where the hell was Rhodey? He'd had plenty of time to get here, even without the X-99. If Tony was going to give these crackpots the Mark V, he really needed to have the Mark VI ready. He faced a second of indecision over whether to call his wayward sidekick that instant or wait until he heard what else JARVIS had gleaned from analysis. The scales tipped slightly to give Rhodey the benefit of doubt for the moment.

His voice calm and determined, he ordered, "Lay it on me, JARVIS."

"Sir, there is some footage of Miss Potts that was edited out, but it appears it was not erased in the literal sense. Mr. Hammer's second speech was recorded over it using a program which left vestiges and digital ghosts. I have enhanced the trace to approximately 75% of the original."

"Play it!" Tony didn't even feel the need to chide the AI over the 25% that was lost.

The holographic screen lit up and the picture was back to the zoomed-in shot of Pepper, still blindfolded and helpless on the floor, with Hammer squeezing her cheeks together with one hand. If 100% was a Blu-Ray high-def, then 75% was more like Dad's old 16mm film reels played on a projector. Not perfect, but close enough. Less than one second elapsed before Pepper jerked her face out of Hammer's grip and caught his finger in her teeth.

Hammer yelped in pain and pulled away. Tony thought he saw blood, but it could have been a shadow. Pepper looked frustrated that she didn't get a better bite and Hammer whimpered like a baby. It was no wonder he would edit this out, the big wuss. Tony's lips curled into a grin.

Then, while Hammer was nursing his wound, Pepper spoke in a rush of words, "I quit, Mr. Stark. Do you hear me? I'm not your CEO anymore. You're not responsible for me. Don't give this slimy little creep anything!"

Hammer immediately punished her with a forceful kick to her gut. She doubled up in pain, drawing her knees up to her chest, and writhed on the floor, crying piteously.

All the blood left Tony's face and his insides twisted in knots. He whispered to her holographic projection, "Don't cry, honey." He couldn't stand to hear her cry.

"Cut it, Mac," Hammer barked from outside the frame, and the clip ended.

"Give me another second, J," Tony said softly.

He couldn't take in anything else right now. Pepper's piteous cries played over and over in his mind, overlapped with 'I quit, Mr. Stark' which was so obviously code for 'I love you' that it should have been in the Princess Bride. He reached into his pocket and curled his fingers around the pregnancy test stick, squeezing it tight as if his grip could embrace the unborn child he knew had perished in that horrible moment. He let himself absorb the pain, mourning the child he had only known about for a day.

So why did Hammer cut this out? Was it, as Tony originally thought, personal embarrassment over his wimpy reaction to being bitten? Did he know about the pregnancy? Or was it because he'd hurt Pepper so seriously? Surely that heartless kick proved Hammer's resolve better than the slap or the forced pucker. Why wouldn't he want Tony to see what a badass woman-abuser he was?

Again, he worried Pepper was already dead. If that kick had killed her, it would be good reason to hide it. Yet, much as the thought haunted him, it didn't ring true. He knew his unborn child died in that second. _Knew_ it, not suspected. He _felt_ it in his spirit somehow. But he didn't feel that way about Pepper. The kick had hurt her and he felt great empathy for that hurt, but it didn't feel like a mortal blow. He couldn't write her off. Not yet.

He drew a few deep breaths. "Okay, JARVIS, what else have you got?"

"The padded envelope which held the jump drive had high levels of sodium chloride on the outside surface."

Thank goodness he'd done all those chemical scans before touching it. "Salt, J? Like tears or sweat?"

"The chemical composition is very close to tears, sir, but it also had traces of pollutants comparable with seawater."

Hammer had said something about sending him to the bottom of the Atlantic, which could have been a throwaway remark like 'sleeping with the fishes', but perhaps it was more. "Okay, so maybe whoever mailed it took a ferry or drove close to the beach. There's a lot of beach in New York. What else?"

"I ran echo-analysis algorithms on all the sound caught on the recordings." The Mark V projected a graphic representation of the sound waves by strength and direction, as well as their reflections. The waves disappeared, but each point of reflection remained visible and as time went on, the bounce-points solidified into surfaces. JARVIS sped up the simulation and soon displayed a three-dimensional rendering of the room and its objects, including a fuzzy depiction of Hammer himself, presumably because he had moved while recording. As Tony had guessed, he sat at a laptop computer and the receiver of all the sound was right where a webcam would be mounted.

"There is less data for the room where Miss Potts was held," JARVIS said in an apologetic tone. The AI did not bother to repeat a simulation of how the echo analysis was done, but only showed the final outline. Thankfully, Pepper was obscured because of all her movement. Tony couldn't see anything clearly enough to affect him. Likewise, Hammer and the heretofore unseen phone-cam guy, Mac, moved quite a bit, but as their movement was more linear, their figures were more recognizable, like a blurry time-lapse.

"Show both rooms, JARVIS. Remove furniture and people," Tony instructed.

The blurry figures in Pepper's room and what looked like a mattress in the corner all vanished. In the room where Hammer's laptop had been, the table, chair, and various other stationary objects disappeared.

"Rotate renderings."

The neon blue room outlines slowly rotated, so Tony could see the shapes from all sides, just as he would rotate a design for anything he was inventing. Pepper's room was half-cylindrical, like a can that had been cut in half lengthwise, with the door on the flat side represented by the cut. The walls curved seamlessly into the ceiling, but the floor had been flattened a bit. Hammer's computer room was triple the size, fully cylindrical, with the walls fully curved, flat on the two round ends and a flattened floor that was narrower than the widest point of the walls.

"What does that look like to you?" Tony asked, more to think out loud than to get JARVIS's opinion.

But the AI didn't realize the question was rhetorical and started flashing pictures which had varying degrees of matching elements to the rendered rooms—everything from airplane fuselages to quonset huts to submarines, with the latter showing the best matches.

"Did Hammer Industries ever build submarines for the Navy?" Tony asked.

"No, sir. But the best match is not a military submarine. It is a private model manufactured by U.S. Submarines." The holographic screen reported 99.3% match with their Phoenix 2000 class of luxury sub, listed at 140 million dollars. JARVIS continued without pause, "While their records are not public, Mr. Deshpande's computer files indicate he recently found an invoice from U.S. Submarines showing Ashley Hammer purchased a Phoenix 2000 class submarine from them in 2009. It was dubbed _The Villa_. Current whereabouts unknown."

"Ashley Hammer? A relative?"

"Apparently an older sister to Justin, but a death certificate shows she was deceased before his birth."

_Gotcha_.

"JARVIS, ring up Jim Cameron. Time to call in a favor."

"A Canadian filmmaker with 11 Oscars owes you a favor, sir?"

"Back from that Dances-with-Smurfs flick."

"You funded _Avatar_ and didn't get your name in the credits?" The A.I's incredulous tone played well here. Tony didn't pass up many chances to soak up limelight. And actually, it did seem rather unbelievable. Cameron was one of the few people whose wealth and ego rivaled Tony's. The man once declared himself "king of the world" during the Academy Awards.

"Not funding. He had plenty of cash from Titanic Tearjerker." _Pepper loved—no, she _loves—_that movie_. He tried to hurry past the thought before a lump formed in his throat. "He needed more computer power for blue aliens than he did to hit a boat with a giant ice cube. I helped him out a little." It really wasn't much. After all, Cameron cut his teeth on Terminator and Aliens. It wasn't like the guy had no experience in CGI. Still, Tony thought he'd made an amiable connection, one he could impose upon to ask a small favor.

"Sir, you realize he donated the _Deepsea Challenger_ to Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute." JARVIS had switched to a more sympathetic tone once he figured out where Tony was going with his reasoning.

But no, Tony didn't realize the man had donated his record-breaking submersible to someone else. Pepper would have said that was just desserts after Tony donated the modern art collection to the Boy Scouts. "No matter. That was just a one-seater anyway. I need something bigger and more maneuverable, but doesn't have to go quite _that_ deep. He'll hook me up." He really hoped whatever he got wasn't that nasty lime green Cameron used. Probably looked fantastic in a National Geographic documentary, but it wasn't really a good look for Iron Man. Too bad he didn't have time to order up his own Phoenix 2000 and paint it red and gold.

In another fifteen minutes, Tony had borrowed a private sub from one of Cameron's friends, complete with someone to pilot it for him. It was moored in a cozy little berth off Newport. From what he was told, this loaner was about a third the size of a Phoenix, but rated just as deep. Moreover, it had state-of-the-art sonar and all the latest underwater gadgets. Even if Hammer's offhand remark could be taken literally, the Atlantic Ocean was pretty damned big and Tony still had no idea _where_ in the Atlantic _The Villa_ might be.

* * *

_**A/N: I apologize to any of you who may have noticed all my previous fanfic was SeaQuest. I hope this didn't make you groan too much. However, when I found out that the Justin Hammer of the comics owned a floating island called "Hammer's Villa", I just knew I had to do something nautical with an updated twist. Submarines seemed to fit the bill. U.S. Submarines does indeed build the finest private submarines in the world, with their top-of-the-line being a Phoenix 1000. Google it. It's like an underwater cruise ship. I did embellish the real Phoenix for plot purposes, hence the fictional "2000" model. Also, my apologies to James Cameron, but you know Tony Stark would just **_**have****_ to have a snarky name for Avatar._**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Tony finished talking with Bob Keckle, the submarine owner Cameron introduced him to. The guy was excited to be helping out Iron Man, but he kept his groupie-gushing to a minimum. He refused to let Tony rent his four-man sub and also refused payment for piloting, but insisted on making Tony his guest. He only agreed to let him buy the fuel. Having someone else drive was not a problem for Tony. He had a pilot for his private jet and Happy had been his chauffeur for years. But it felt slightly awkward to be a guest in someone else's vehicle and to have a pilot who would not be his employee. Still, what choice did he have? He was lucky Cameron knew someone close-by with a sub in good order and willing to help him.

Someone knocked. "Food's here," Happy called through the door. He didn't wait to be invited but came right through. He set down a box of donuts on the coffee table in the living room. A large thermos hung from a strap on his shoulder. He pulled it off and held it up. "Here's your espresso. You want a cup, or you gonna guzzle from the jug?"

Tony grinned. "What is that, a gallon?"

"You said 'lots'," Happy reminded him.

"Yes, I did, and you delivered." He reached for the thermos and Happy gave it up. Tony unscrewed the cap and took a swig. It was not unlike cheap booze. You didn't drink it for the taste. This much espresso was sure to keep him hyped for days. He stuffed the thermos down between his leg and the couch cushion and grabbed a donut. It was then he noticed Happy staring at him. "What?"

"You tell me. You're not the same guy I left forty-five minutes ago."

"I got a ransom demand. They want the Mark V." _Please don't ask to see the recording. I can't watch it again and you don't want to see it either_.

Happy kept his eyes on the floor and spoke in a guarded, low tone. "You gonna give it to them?"

"Yep."

"Wait. Just like that?"

"Just like that. Hoping once they have it, I can track them to where they're holding Pepper."

"What if he kills her anyway?"

"Hammer doesn't want the suit. He's using that to pay off his escape accomplices. He's too greedy not to exploit this for everything it's worth. He'll keep her alive." _He had better_.

"When's the drop?"

"Whenever I want. I have to do a few things first." He knew Happy would offer to drive next and while Tony didn't mind his driving (he'd proven more than capable in Monaco) he didn't want Happy to try to come along when he boarded the sub. "I'll need the Rolls." Not for the drop, which was close enough to walk, but for the trip to Newport. He didn't really want to tell Happy about that part.

"I should come with you."

"Iron Man doesn't need a bodyguard. You said it yourself."

"You're giving up the suit. That means you're just Tony Stark."

_**Just**__ Tony Stark?_ Did Happy need a boxing lesson right here? Tony might have obliged, except this was Pepper's apartment and the last thing she needed was to come home to a mess. "I've got more than one suit. Rhodey's bringing me the Mark VI. Besides, even if Tony Stark needed a bodyguard, you're _Pepper's_ employee now."

The big guy rolled his eyes. "I don't think she would object."

Tony laid a hand on Happy's shoulder. "I got this, okay?"

He shrugged, defeated. "Okay, boss."

"Pepper's employee, not mine."

"Whatever."

Tony swiped at the holographic display a couple of times until the echo-location algorithm formula filled the screen in all its convoluted scientific glory. Tony understood the numbers and operations completely, but he stared at them, feigning a calculative state.

Predictably, Happy was even more intimidated with mathematics than he had been by Agent Romanoff. He dropped the keys to the Rolls Royce on the coffee table and grabbed two donuts. "I'll just leave you to your...uh..." he gestured widely at the holo-screen, "...work then."

"Thanks for breakfast, Hap." Tony waved at the retreating chauffeur.

The door clicked shut.

A swipe of his hand cleared the 'scary' number screen away. "JARVIS, call Col. Rhodes."

The call connected on the first ring. "Tony, I'm sorry."

Tony was taken aback, but not unnerved. "You're supposed to let me lecture you about your tardiness first."

"I tried to get there. I swear I did. But I can't just go AWOL, you know. I have superior officers. I had to tell them something."

Tony listened without interrupting. This was bound to be entertaining.

"I tried hemming and hawing around, but it was no good. They weren't buying the 'help out a friend' line or the personal leave requests. So I told them about Raza and they flipped out. Tony, I..." Rhodey swallowed audibly. "They sent me to Afghanistan."

If he didn't need the Mark VI so badly at the moment, Tony would have laughed. "_With_ the armor?"

"War Machine, yeah. Yours is still back in Malibu." At least he had the decency to sound apologetic about it.

"So what's the scoop in Raza's sandbox?"

"Hell if I know. Half our intel is bad."

"And the other half?"

"Ten Rings is alive and kicking, Tony."

"I could have told you that from here. Oh, wait. I _**did**_ tell you that from here."

"Nothing definitive on Raza himself, but that doesn't mean much. Look how long it took us to find Bin Laden. How's Pepper?"

"I got a ransom demand, well, partial one anyway. They want the suitcase armor first."

"When?"

"Immediately."

"I...I..."

"You're busy. I got it."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, tell your superiors I'm about to hand over an Iron Man suit to terrorists. Maybe then they'll let you come help me."

"What? No, Tony! You can't."

"I can and I will. Hammer has Pepper in a private submarine, but I don't know where. Even the most kickass sonar can't scan the whole Atlantic. If I give them the Mark V, I can track it to her."

"Give me a chance to get there then."

"Gave you a chance, buddy. Not waiting any longer. Have fun in the sandbox." Tony ended the call. _Stupid military_. This was what happened when he tried to play nice. Let Rhodey have the suit to promote goodwill and cooperation—except their idea of cooperation was pretty damned one-sided.

He couldn't spare the three hour round-trip to go get the Mark VI himself. Time was important now, and he might not even need the armor to rescue Pepper anyway. It wasn't like he could bust into a submarine with a repulsor blast. They tended to sink when you did that. And if Pepper didn't have the suitcase armor on when he breached the hull (and he planned to booby-trap the Mark V so bad, no one would ever be able to get it on), she'd drown. _Scratch that plan_.

According to the specs on the U.S. Submarine website, the Phoenix-class could only carry enough fuel, fresh water, and air to last a week. Unless "Ashley Hammer" had done modifications after-factory, _The Villa_ wouldn't have torpedo tubes. So, hopefully, Hammer and his minions would be powerless to stop Tony and Bob from just following them around until they had to surface. _That_ would be the time to strike. And if they were going to surface anyway...

He pulled out his phone and called Happy. He was probably still in the building. He couldn't go far without the car and Tony had the keys.

"Yeah," Happy said on the other end.

"Rhodey got shanghaied by the Air Force. I need you to go get the Mark VI."

"What, me? I can't even get into your basement without Pepper or you there."

Happy had always had access to the cars Tony bought for driving, but since Tony beefed up security on the garage, Happy didn't have access to the area where the collectibles and armor were kept. Not that Tony wouldn't give him the same code he gave Pepper and Rhodey. Happy just never wanted it. Tony suspected it was more of his numbers phobia.

"JARVIS will open up on your voice command, won't you, JARVIS?" Tony took the phone off his ear and held it in the air, pointed at the Mark V console.

JARVIS said, "Yes, sir. Mr. Hogan's voiceprint now authorized to unlock security in Malibu."

He brought the phone back to his ear. "See? Done deal."

"I can't get in that thing and fly." Tony wasn't sure if Happy realized how form-fitting the suit was or if he was afraid of the idea of flying without a plane.

"I know. Take the jet both ways."

"That's gonna take all day." It would be 10-12 hours round trip, more if the weather was nasty.

"You got something else to do?"

"No. I just don't want you all impatient because I can't go as fast as your fancy rocket boots."

"I know how fast the jet is."

"I'll be in a cab in five."

"Thanks, Hap." Tony hung up.

"Okay, JARVIS, time to modify the Mark V with a tracking device and security measures."

"I'm waiting on tenterhooks, sir."

"It can't all be about you, J. You may have to vacate rather than let the bad guys appropriate you for their nefarious plans." It wouldn't be 'death', even by computer standards, for JARVIS to purge himself. The artificial intelligence was still in Tony's home computer system and all the other suits.

"Sir, without computer guidance, the Mark V is no more than—"

"At best, a really large brick, at worst, a prop for a medieval joust." Tony grinned. "That's the idea."

He allowed himself two hours for modifications. He could have done more if he had a couple of days, but unless the Ten Rings guys had someone smarter than Hammer, it would be adequate. _Probably_. He also took twenty minutes to design an app for his smartphone to contain a linked version of JARVIS, so he could stay in contact after the drop. It might also, with an insane amount of luck, give him a way to talk to Pepper. They would have to put the suitcase in the same room with her, which admittedly, wasn't likely.

It was about 2 PM when Tony took the suitcase in hand and walked to Central Park. He found the hot dog stand with the orange-hatted chef easily, and the maple tree with the trashcan. This time of day, there was practically no one around. He would have given Hammer mental props for that, but Hammer hadn't chosen the time of day. Tony did.

He did a full visual sweep of the area, but saw no one else besides the hot dog dude. Whether Mr. Orange Hat was Ten Rings or not was anyone's guess. Deshpande had been a nice, quiet lawyer, taking small-time cases for years without even a blip on the radar. There could be 'sleepers' anywhere.

The trashcan was empty save for what looked like a folded-up pillow in the bottom. It didn't look old or dirty, so he figured Hammer's people must have put it in there to cushion the suitcase. Did these people not see the show in Monaco? Pepper threw the suitcase out of a car window and slid it across the asphalt. But they thought it couldn't take a six-inch drop in a quiet park?

Tony spoke under his breath. "Well, JARVIS, looks like they're coddling you. I'm setting the suit down in the can now. Switch to the phone link."

His hip pocket vibrated the text-received signal in response. Tony had programmed the app so JARVIS could communicate while keeping the phone inconspicuous. They could talk freely, but only if Tony answered a call or initiated one.

He looked down at the hand holding the case, hesitating. Was he doing the right thing? He'd been beyond furious when he discovered Stark tech in Afghanistan, killing Americans and terrorizing innocent Afghani children. How much worse could this be, if they somehow defeated all the security and reverse-engineered the Mark V? Would he be no better than Obadiah Stane, putting dangerous weapons in the hands of terrorists? Tony drew a deep breath and let go.

There was no sound when the suitcase left his hand, thanks to the pillow in the can, no doubt. He straightened, adjusted his sunglasses, and walked away, keeping Orange Hat Guy in his peripheral vision as long as possible. He slipped into the trees and found a vantage point that allowed him to see a little of both the trashcan and the hot dog stand. It was far enough away he had to pull out his binoculars. He didn't want to disrupt the pickup, just observe. It wouldn't hurt to know what some of his enemy, besides Hammer, looked like.

Ten minutes passed and nothing happened. How long would they wait? Surely, the kidnappers couldn't feel good about priceless tech sitting in a public garbage with nothing to stop a passer-by from just casually picking it up and walking off. It wasn't even heavy.

On a whim, Tony pulled out his phone. He cleared the text from JARVIS that only said, "Yes sir," and checked to make sure the tracking device was transmitting.

It was, but something was wrong. Unless the calibration was completely off, the suitcase was no longer in the can. How could that be, when no one had gone near it? He punched in the phone number to reach JARVIS, but he kept his voice low.

"Hey, why didn't you tell me someone picked you up?"

"I thought that was the idea, sir. Is the transmitter not working?"

"I don't know." He looked at his phone screen to watch the blinking light move further away. "I see you're moving, but I don't have a visual."

Then, from behind him, a hand reached around and put a chloroform-soaked cloth over **_his_** nose and mouth. Three thoughts flashed through his mind at lightning speed: _Sheesh, Tony, how stupid can you get?_ Followed by, _I can handle this, just... _But whatever he was 'just' going to do was lost when he felt dizzy. His vision narrowed and the final thought raced through: _You're going down. Leave a clue_. And with the last ounce of muscle control he had, Tony dropped his phone into the grass.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"Tony? Tony, can you hear me?" It was the voice of an angel, calling him to Heaven. No, it was _**his**_ angel, Pepper. He could only remember that he had to find her. She was in trouble.

Hearing her voice meant she was close. Excitement jumpstarted him to consciousness. "Pepper?" He was annoyed his voice sounded so groggy and he couldn't hold up his head. _What the hell was I drinking anyway?_

"Tony! Thank God. Are you all right?"

_Am I?_ It took a few seconds to figure out what happened. He'd been drugged in Central Park, just after handing over his super-advanced armor to terrorists. He'd tried to drop his phone, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded and even if he did, his assailant could have picked it up after he was out cold. He was in a half-cylindrical metal room, undoubtedly on _The Villa_, tied quite tightly to a chair. If he wasn't mistaken, Pepper was right behind him, probably also tied to a chair facing the other way, or she would be hugging him or at least trying to untie him. "Hi, honey. I'm home," he quipped.

Pepper tittered nervously, but with obvious relief. "I thought they took your heart thingy. I thought you were dying."

He looked down at his chest. He was wearing a sweatshirt, which meant he wouldn't see the blue glow even if it was there. However, he knew what it felt like when the electromagnet stopped, and this wasn't it. With every passing second, he was feeling more energetic, not less. "Nope. Still here." _For the moment._ But what would stop them from taking his arc reactor, just as Obie had done? It was worth a lot more than the suit, especially since the Mark V was booby-trapped to hell. And both the suit and the reactor, together? _How could I be so stupid?_

"So what's the plan?"

Rescuing her had definitely been the plan. But his plans had gone haywire and now he was improvising. What were their chances? He hadn't told Happy where the drop was. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been knocked out. For all he knew, Happy could still be in California. Rhodey didn't know where the drop was either, but at least knew about Hammer's submarine. Then again, Rhodey was in Afghanistan. Keckle was the only person who should have been expecting him, but he wouldn't know where to look or who to notify when he didn't show up. The truth was not good, so he decided to go for the laugh. "Ta-da! I'm here to rescue you!"

"I'm serious, Tony."

Crap, she pulled the serious card. Time to change the subject. "Speaking of serious, I've been in your apartment. I saw what you left in the bathroom."

"I..." Her voice broke. "I was going to tell you when I saw you."

He made his voice tender. No more joking. "I know. I also saw how Hammer kicked you. Are you all right?" He should have asked this sooner. Damn, he wanted to hold her so badly right now.

"I think I lost it. There was a lot of bleeding."

He was ready to hear she lost it, but 'a lot of bleeding' alarmed him. "How much 'a lot'?"

"Totally ruined my new Victoria's Secret I wanted to show you," she said, whimpering heavily.

Even tied up and scared to death, she could joke and be sexy at the same time. Why had it taken him so long to see what had been right in front of him all these years? "I'm worried about _you_. Did the bleeding stop? Are _you_ all right?"

"I was better before you got here."

She was right, he shouldn't be here like this. He should have only been here with his armor on and a rescue sub docked and ready to carry her away to safety. For once, the snark didn't come and he was speechless.

"I—I didn't mean it like that," Pepper said, bringing her whimpering under control. "I mean, they only tied me up again because they stuck you in here. They knew I'd untie you if they left me free."

"You have them all intimidated after you bit Hammer's finger."

She sniffled loudly. "He said he was going to cut that out."

"He did. JARVIS restored it. Actually, he just cut out the part where you quit on me again."

"It wasn't in writing," she said in a small voice. Her crying seemed to have mostly stopped. "I didn't want Hammer to know you cared. I didn't want him to think I was good leverage against you."

Tony hadn't thought of it that way. He would have paid money for Bambi or Happy without a second thought, but he probably wouldn't have handed over a suit for anyone else. Evidently, Hammer knew that and used it against him. "But you are. I gave him the Mark V."

"What? How could you?"

"Pep, these are the same goons who kidnapped me in Afghanistan. I couldn't stand it if they hurt you."

"What do you mean? Hammer never went to Afghanistan. He was trying to get your defense contracts while everyone thought you were dead."

"The guys Obie was selling under the table to—the guys who almost killed me—they broke Hammer out of jail. They killed Yinsen. They would kill you too, if I didn't give them what they wanted. Well, sort of."

"Sort of? How do you _sort of_ kill someone?"

"I didn't mean the killing. I mean, I _sort of_ gave them what they wanted. The suitcase is booby-trapped."

"Oh, and they're not going to figure that out?" She had to be over her crying now to make that remark in that biting tone of hers. _This_ was the Pepper he knew and loved.

"Well, yeah, but I didn't expect to be here when they did." He was about to mention that he'd sent Happy to fetch the Mark VI, but it occurred to him that Hammer and his Ten Rings buds could be listening. What else had he said that he shouldn't have? He really was losing his genius status today. "Speaking of—do you know where we are?"

"I thought it was an airplane at first, but we've never landed. Nothing can fly this long without refueling. Is it a train?"

"Actually, the military has refueling planes that can deliver fuel in mid-air, but Hammer doesn't have access to them." How much worse could all this be if Hammer had been a real innovator? Tony shuddered to think. "We're in a submarine in the Atlantic. I hadn't figured out where yet. The Mark V was supposed to lead me to you."

"A submarine?" Something like shock or fear ran through her voice. He didn't recall her being afraid of the water. She'd been on his yacht before and never faltered. His uncharacteristic hesitation spurred her to fill the gap. "Tony, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"No, I mean I'm sorry for giving you a hard time. It—it never occurred to me you couldn't find me or get to me. You can't take the suit underwater, can you?"

"Limited depth, I can. But I can't go punching holes in a submarine unless I want everyone inside to drown. I'd need to get in through a pressurized divelock or docking hatch, get you in another suit, and _then_ punch a hole. But I couldn't do anything until I found you."

"Well, you found me. Now what?"

Great, so they were _both_ lost. But that was no need to get all grim. "Can't tell you." That much was true, because he had no idea what to do next. "They might be listening," he added. Also true. Being all secretive made it sound like there was a plan, which he fervently hoped would cause Hammer to be worried if he did hear them.

If Pepper realized he was bluffing through implication, she was smart enough not to mention it. She was incredibly sexy when she was smart, which was actually quite often, but he took her for granted far too much. "Oh. Right."

As if on cue, Tony heard the door open, but he couldn't turn his head far enough to see it. "Who is it?" he whispered to Pepper.

"Hammer," she muttered.

Tony rolled his eyes and mentally prepared himself for Mr. Insufferable.

"Well, well, well," Hammer said in his supremely self-satisfied tone, no doubt leading into his gloat-of-the-century.

"Deep subject," Tony retorted.

"Anthony, my friend. My, how the tables have turned."

"Really? Because I don't remember ever kidnapping the mother of _your_ child," Tony heard Pepper gasp at the revelation, but she didn't interrupt and he didn't pause to let Hammer do it either, "and then kicking her hard enough to cause a miscarriage, or tying you up beside her while I made you listen to me gloat. I mean, sure, I gloated in Congress, but you were free to go, and perhaps you should have after I showed that Hammer Industries footage of turning your test pilot into a pretzel. That must have been rather embarrassing for you, but maybe no more embarrassing than—"

"Shut up! I don't have to listen to this. I can put a gag on you, you know." He had crossed the room and now was in Tony's face, smugness oozing from every pore of his pasty grin.

Tony, for his part, wanted to shut his eyes because the jerk was so incredibly annoying, but it might look like fear. That was the last thing he would show this puffed-up piece of Hollywood fakery. "Yeah, that would shut me up and then you win by default, right?"

Hammer smacked his left cheek. It stung, but he'd been hurt worse before.

"So what now, tough guy? You beat me up while I'm all bound and defenseless? That ought to make you feel good. This what you kidnapped me for, so you could feel powerful?"

"Actually, I didn't think they'd get you." His body language and his tone was cocky, condescending. "The suit, yes, but not you. I put the odds of that at about four to one. Lost that bet, but look what I got? The great Anthony Stark."

"I been meaning to ask about that. How did you get the suit anyway?" Tony had a few ideas, but why guess when he could just ask Mr. Self-Important? The more he stroked Hammer's ego, the more he gave away. And maybe, just maybe, Tony could buy them some time.

"What? We fooled the biggest genius of all time? Looks like your crown is slipping."

_At least my crown is real and not plastic._ Tony barely kept himself from saying it out loud. He knew he made mistakes. At least he was man enough to admit it when he was wrong. "Yeah. It does that. So what was it? False bottom with a chute that let you pick it up from behind the next tree?"

Hammer laughed.

Tony wanted nothing more than to kick his laughing butt into next week, but he forced a neutral expression. Play stupid. Let Hammer feel superior. Sooner or later, he'd make a mistake. Tony just hoped he was still alive to see it.

"That trashcan you put it in? We set it on top of a manhole that connects to an old section of the subway. You threw it right into our hands and we walked away before you even knew we had it."

"Not bad," Tony said sincerely. He had indeed been fooled and it wasn't like they didn't know it already. "So you got the suit. Congratulations. You've just given terrorists a big leg up. Hope you're proud."

"Actually, they're not very happy with the condition it's in." Hammer almost sounded amused with this, like he'd expected it.

Tony smirked. "Stark Industries gives no warranties on stolen merchandise."

"They want me to torture you into telling us how to fix it."

"Take me to it and I'll have it fixed in no time. Free of charge."

"I don't think so."

"Then you're on your own."

"Maybe I'll just give them Miss Potts here."

Tony adopted a threatening tone. "Leave her out of it, Hammer. She doesn't know anything about the suit. She just takes care of the business side of Stark Industries. Well, not even that anymore. She just quit on me, which I blame _you_ for. She's an innocent bystander. Let her go, and you and I can settle our differences."

"How's it feel to not get your way, eh, Anthony? Consider this: there are a lot of men here at my Villa, and _she's_ the only woman. We've been at sea a long time and the men are lonely. I think you'll be a lot more helpful after she's had a few nights of friendly company."

Tony jerked against his ropes and spoke through gritted teeth. "Leave her alone. You hurt her again in any way and I'll kill you."

"Not this time. I've got the upper hand here. Besides, who said anything about hurting?" Hammer stepped toward Pepper.

Tony turned his head. Hammer made sure he was still in Tony's line of sight and stroked Pepper's hair. It was probably a good thing JARVIS wasn't here, or that blood pressure alarm of his would be going off again. Once again, Tony strained against the ropes, cutting into his wrists so hard that blood started to trickle out.

Pepper whipped her head around and chomped down so her teeth made a loud clack. Hammer jumped about a foot.

Tony bit his lips to keep from laughing. It would make Hammer mad and he didn't want Pepper to pay for it.

Hammer pretended nothing happened. "Hey, you know, maybe we won't need any help anyway. We'll bypass all your puerile little traps and then I'll just start over with new software. No big deal. I did it on War Machine. I can do it again. But then consider this: what happens to both of you when you're no longer useful?"

He let his cryptic statement hang in the air. Footsteps retreated and then the hatch banged shut and sealed behind him.

* * *

_**A/N: My apologies on my limited knowledge of New York. I have no idea if there is or ever was any subway underneath any part of Central Park, but if National Treasure could locate massive undiscovered catacombs underneath Wall Street, is this any less plausible? This is the Marvel universe that has giant green rage monsters and Norse legends coming to life. An old forgotten subway section under Central Park can't be **_**that****_ far fetched._**


End file.
